


The Stand-In

by The Manwell (Manniness)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Language, Lemon, Light Angst, M/M, OOC - for a reason, POV Heero Yuy, Post EW, Spoilers, Yaoi, so just read it, there is no tag for the idea behind this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/pseuds/The%20Manwell
Summary: When Heero Yuy collapses at the conclusion of Endless Waltz, the cause is assumed to be the injuries he sustained while firing on the Brussels estate. But the truth is far stranger...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. With The Manwell's permission, I began manually importing some of her works to the AO3 as part of an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017.

Voices.  
  
Vibrations.  
  
Visions.  
  
I can't make sense of any of it through my closed eyelids and ringing ears. It's chaos and the only thing I can manage to grasp onto -- the only sensation I can identify -- is the warm strength of slender arms around me. I think I moan. I think I hear a woman's softly crooning voice over the pandemonium. I think she brushes my hair back from my brow with her fingertips.  
  
Do I know her?  
  
I doubt it.  
  
I don't even know where I am.  
  
I can feel myself falling. I'm beginning to loose consciousness. I don't even have time to wonder what I'll dream before I'm there: in the dark of my mind, in the quiet of my body.  
  
The world could be exploding around me or cradling me close. I don't know, either way. I'm lost. I'm alone.  
  
And there are no dreams that come to me.  
  
+  
  
I can hear the sound of someone's slow, even breaths if I hold my own.  
  
Who's there? I almost ask. Almost. Instead, I wait. I feign sleep until I'm reasonably certain my visitor is also asleep.  
  
I open my eyes and stare. My companion is a young man. I study him carefully in this brief moment of wakefulness I'm allowed. He sits in a plain, plastic chair at my bedside. His arms are resting on the edge of my mattress and his head is pillowed on his forearms. I take in his wrinkled, dark jacket and know he'll have creases in his cheek when he wakes up. I'd almost like to be around to watch that happen.  
  
I continue to stare, wondering who he is, wondering why he's here. And I wonder what color his eyes are. I indulge myself with following the curve of his jaw up to his ear which is partially hidden beneath his golden-brown hair. His _long_ golden-brown hair. My gaze travels over the loosely woven braid until it disappears below his shoulders. How long is his hair? I'd really like to know.  
  
But I don't even know his name.  
  
Or my own.  
  
The thought spurs me to test my body, to find something I can count on. My limbs respond sluggishly and after only a moment of effort, I feel suddenly exhausted. I cast my gaze around the room, wondering where I am. In a hospital room, I surmise. But a hospital where? And what had happened to me? Had I been ill? In an accident or—  
  
My thoughts still and disappear when my gaze lands on the open bathroom door. It stands at just the right angle for me too see someone reflected in the full-length mirror. And for one crazy, near-panicked moment, I think someone else is in the room with me and my visitor. But no. That stranger in the mirror is...  
  
I lower my head just to confirm it.  
  
Yes. That's me.  
  
But that's not me. I don't look like that.  
  
And yet, somehow, I do.  
  
I don't know what to think, what to do. I'd been worried because I couldn't remember my name but my face? I lay back and close my eyes, trying to hide in the darkness, trying to call it to me so that it will carry me away from this nightmare. And as it answers my summons, I permit myself one last glimpse of my visitor.  
  
And then the questions don't matter anymore as I became cocooned once more in my non-dreaming darkness.  
  
+  
  
"Hey, Heero. Wake up, buddy. Breakfast."  
  
I resist the sound of that voice, the scent of food. I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to look into his and see the me he expects reflected in his expression. As long as I hide in the darkness, I don't have to think about who I am... or rather, who I'm not.  
  
"C'mon, Heero... Please?"  
  
He sounds tired. How long has he been watching over me? Does this voice belong to the young man with the braid who'd fallen asleep during his vigil? The curiosity more than anything else causes my lashes to flutter. I can hear his quickly indrawn breath.  
  
"Heero?" he tries again. That must be my name.  
  
But it's not. That's not my name.  
  
"Are you awake?" Pause. "Heero?" He'd sounded so confident that he'd finally been getting through to me, but that last word, whispered on a thick breath had been uncertain. And as much as I don't want to face the strange world I find myself in, I can't allow his anxiety to continue. Part of me wonders if this "Heero" would have felt the same.  
  
I open my eyes for him.  
  
And it _is_ him. The long braid, the rumpled jacket, and the dark blue eyes. Royal blueeyes. Those wide, mesmerizing eyes blink back tears he doesn't shed. His wide mouth performs a dazzling smile for me.  
  
He's beautiful.  
  
"You _are_ awake," he informs both of us.  
  
Slowly, I nod.  
  
"I've missed you, man," he continues, simply gazing at me.  
  
I don't know what to say to that, but I manage a soft sound in the back of my throat. He can translate it whichever way he likes. But he does what I don't expect: he laughs.  
  
"That's the ol' Heero Yuy we all know and love," he quips and I think he's teasing me. My eyes narrow at him but his grin only widens.  
  
"Here," he says, offering a paper cup to me and guiding the plastic straw to my lips. "It's just cold water."  
  
I sip at it for a moment, attempting to re-hydrate my mouth and throat. After a moment, I pull away.  
  
"Ready for the main course?" he asks lightly.  
  
I say nothing. I'm not ready to try my voice. Not yet. He glances at me as his hand hovers over one of the nondescript food containers on a tray nearby, waiting for my response. I nod.  
  
"Nothing but the best for you, my man," he continues, obviously pleased with my reluctant communication. I watch him stir the contents of one of those containers with a spoon before leaning closer to me across the limp bed linens. "Europe's finest applesauce," he announces, lifting the spoon to my lips.  
  
This is ridiculous. I can feed myself, can't I? As soon as I attempt to raise my arm, he quickly dumps the spoon in the container and gently lays a hand on my wrist.  
  
"Don't, Heero," he tells me. "You've suffered dozens of stress fractures, strained muscles, and torn ligaments. You really need to rest. Please, just let me do this for you."  
  
I can feel the truth of his assessment of my condition in the constant aching of my tired, battered body. I wonder how it happened, but it would require using my voice to ask. And I just... can't do that. I stop trying to move and just lay back against the pillows. He rewards me with a smile as he removes his touch from my skin in order to stir the applesauce again.  
  
"Of course," he continues in a tone that's too light, too casual, "you realize that after you heal up, I'm going to kick your ass for what you did to me on X18999."  
  
I stare at him, uncomprehending. He doesn't seem to notice.  
  
"Open wide," he orders, the spoon approaching my mouth. And because if I'm eating I can't answer any of his questions, I do so without complaint.  
  
It's not until later, as I'm drifting back to sleep with a full stomach, that I realize I still don't know his name.  
  
+  
  
My doctor regards me solemnly and with a steady gaze, waiting for my reply.  
  
I don't really have one so I content myself with glaring back at him.  
  
After a long, tense moment, he relents. "Right," he mutters. "I'll take that as an affirmative. So, you do know why you're here and what's happened."  
  
I know no such thing but I attempt to look impatient. I don't want to be here any longer. I don't want to risk my... visitors finding out that I'm not really their friend. That although I seem to look like this person they call Heero, I'm not him. I'm... someone else.  
  
"Shall I assume you also remember your reasoning for firing a space calibrated beam cannon on a residence shielding the Vice Foreign Minister?"  
  
I blink. There are so many things in that question that are complete gibberish to me that I can't even begin to sort through it all. What in the hell is this man talking about? I offer up a grunt to the silence. Still, I haven't used my voice properly. Probably because it's not actually _my_ voice. It's Heero's. Whoever that is. Was.  
  
"The authorities will want to interview you," the doctor continues. "I've told them to come back during visiting hours tomorrow if they want to speak with you." He pauses and continues to stare at me, as if his gaze can peel the thoughts from beneath my flesh. "I must admit that I'm also curious as to what you were thinking at the time."  
  
He's not the only one. But I don't dwell on that. I'm busy trying to chase the word "authorities" out of my head.  
  
A knock on the door precedes an increasingly familiar face. I watch as the young man with the long braid peeks into the room. "Hey, Doc," he says. "You almost done with the third degree?"  
  
The older man sighs, sounding very martyred indeed. "Yes. All done." He glances back at me. "For the moment." The doctor reaches for my med chart and scribbles a few things on the electronic touch pad. "There are some tests I've been putting off until you'd regained a bit of your strength and stamina. I'm scheduling them for tomorrow morning." I watch him replace the tablet and feel his gaze scan me once more, from head to toe. And I have to wonder... does he know? Does he know I'm not who everyone thinks I am?  
  
"Get some rest," he orders me and leaves the room.  
  
The youth offers a hearty wave and a big smile, watching the retreating figure through the slowly closing doorway until he's gone. Then, from some mysterious location about his person, my visitor produces a sizable white bag.  
  
"Heya, Heero. I brought you some _real_ food."  
  
I say nothing and simply arc a brow at him.  
  
"Aw, now don't look at me like that. It's edible, I promise." The grin he gives me is rather evil and I wonder what sort of mischief he's either making at the moment or remembering. But I'm very careful not to let either my thoughts or my reactions show. Over the last day and a half, I've begun to realize that no one seems to find my reserved silence all that strange. But I find it odd that the strategy I'd employed in order to buy time to gauge the situation only ended up convincing everyone that "Heero" is perfectly fine.  
  
"Here," my visitor says, plunking himself down on the edge of my bed, managing to make the motion appear both careless and graceful at the same time. He reaches into the bag and extracts a small white carton and a pair of chopsticks.  
  
"It's Kung Bo Chicken," he says into my moment of hesitation, still holding the carton and chopsticks out to me.  
  
Reluctantly, I accept them. I balance the carton in my lap and examine the chopsticks. They're still attached at one end within their plastic wrapper. I hide a frown and covertly watch Duo as he first removes the cellophane from his own set then snaps the utensils apart.  
  
"What's the matter, dude? Did I screw up or something?"  
  
I transfer my frown to him as I begin to fiddle with the easy open end of the wrapped chopsticks.  
  
He holds out a second carton to me. "I also got General Tsao's Pork. Do you want this one instead?"  
  
Ah, he thinks I'm unhappy with the food. I carefully pry my chopsticks apart and shake my head. He continues watching me and I wonder if I know how to use chopsticks.  
  
"You don't have to eat it if you're not hungry," he tells me, misreading my reluctance.  
  
It's a good excuse. One I ought to take. But he's been so... friendly to me that I don't want to disappoint him. Still, I've got to wonder if I'm being fair to him. He still believes I'm his old friend. Shouldn't I explain the situation to him? But what would I say?  
  
"Heero?"  
  
I look up at him, into those incredible eyes. He's worried about me. Or is he worried about Heero? God, it's all getting so confusing.  
  
I arrange my expression into one of inquiry.  
  
He sighs. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm gonna eat," he tells me as he shifts the chopsticks between his fingers and pops open the top of his take-out box. I watch him for a moment as he samples his dinner before I carefully delve into mine. The chopsticks feel strange alongside my fingers. I'm almost positive I've never done this before. Clumsily, I attempt to lift a piece of marinated chicken to my lips.  
  
My companion half chuckles. "You remind me of myself when you first taught me how to eat with these things." He clinks the tips of his chopsticks together for emphasis. "Remember?"  
  
Of course I don't. But Heero might. I grunt. Again.  
  
"Hey, you're not planning on wearing half of your dinner are you?" he asks as the carrot I'd trapped slithers free of my grasp and plunks back into the box.  
  
I sigh. Setting the chopsticks aside, I do the only think I can think of. I flex my hand as though it's stiff and sore. He notices. Popping another bite into his mouth, he puts his own dinner aside and turns toward me.  
  
"Here," he says quietly, collecting my chopsticks. "I'll do it." He picks out a water chestnut from within the box and holds it up for me, intending to feed me again.  
  
I glare at him.  
  
"It's my fault anyway," he replies to my silent objection. "I should have known you wouldn't feel up to this."  
  
I continue to look at him, absorb the sight of him, this beautiful stranger. I ought to turn my head away, decline to eat, but I know I won't. As frightening as his attention is, I crave it. As unfair as it is for me to allow him to continue to believe I'm his good friend, I know I won't turn away from him. But I will. I'll have to. And soon.  
  
+  
  
I wish I could have thanked him. For his kindness. For his sincerity.  
  
I walk toward the spaceport, following the clearly posted signs, and wish I could have said a proper "good bye" to Heero's good friend.  
  
Heero, I decide, had been a very, very lucky guy.  
  
I don't join the lines of people and parcels at the ticket counter. I don't have any money with which to pay for passage to anywhere. I bypass the other travelers and quietly make my way toward the hangars. I chose a shuttle based on its cargo and my ability to disappear amongst it. I don't particularly care where I'm going; I just know I can't stay here. In a few hours, the "authorities" will be coming to the hospital to demand answers of me that I can't give them. Something inside me, some instinct, tells me that if I stay, I'll not be able to avoid the moment of truth. And I don't want to see the look of betrayal in the eyes of the young man with the long braid. Although, in slinking away in the middle of the night, I know I'm betraying him, still the difference is that I won't have to see it when he realizes what I've done.  
  
And his friend "Heero" will still be alive.  
  
And that's my real reason. As envious as I am of Heero Yuy for having such a beautiful soul for a devoted friend, I can't kill him. And I can't -- won't -- hurt his friend. But telling him the truth will most assuredly do that.  
  
I crouch among the crates in the dark, cold cargo hold and wait for takeoff. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know how long it's going to take for me to get there. But I know I'd better have a name for myself by the time I step outside again.  
  
So I settle back, cross my arms over my chest, and begin the process of redefining myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: The woman Heero senses holding him (at the very beginning) is Relena; she catches him when he passes out near the conclusion of "Endless Waltz."
> 
> :: And, in case you were wondering, Duo's jacket is identical to the one he wore in "Endless Waltz."
> 
> :: The injuries Heero sustained during "Endless Waltz" were never actually mentioned. So, yes, the injuries are inferred, not fact.
> 
> :: Duo's comment about Heero "owing him for X18999" is from "Endless Waltz": Heero knocked Duo out to keep him from following.
> 
> :: The doctor's comments about Heero's attack on the estate sheltering Dekim, Marimeia, and Relena are a reasonable summary of the events in "Endless Waltz," I think.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning!"  
  
I nod once to my employer in greeting. It's been well over a month since I'd started working here and I still don't say much. But, luckily, my job doesn't require me to. I take a glance at the list of current jobs to be completed, scanning the names and order numbers. It's not long before I've fallen into the familiar routine necessary for fitting custom frames: locate the order, assemble the frame, cut the glass... The hours go by quickly as I polish and wrap up each completed order.  
  
I glance at the clock as I slide the brown-paper wrapped parcel into the number six bin. I have just enough time to finish one more before my shift ends. I return to the job list and notice that order number 5633 is ready to be fitted. It's a matted photograph called "5 Friends." I take note of the name and begin to assemble the order's components. I join and re-measure the frame before I cut and clean the glass. I pull the image out of its protective sleeve beneath the counter and gently turn it over to brush off any lingering dust particles. The soft bristles of the brush pass once over the surface of the photograph before I process the image therein. And I freeze.  
  
"What have you got there?" my boss asks, noting my petrified state. She glances over my shoulder. "Ah, the Schbeiker order. I was going to show you that." Pointing to the second figure from the left, she continues, "That looks just like you, doesn't it?"  
  
I don't say anything. I can't. So I nod.  
  
Returning to the dry mount press to check on the poster she's affixing to archival foam-core, she muses, "They say all of us have a double out there in the universe somewhere..."  
  
I've heard that as well, but this isn't my double. This is Heero Yuy. This is the young man whose body I inhabit. I stare at the photograph, recognizing three other faces. A young man with blond hair and vibrant eyes: he'd visited me once at the hospital, apologizing for having to leave so quickly. I think I recall him saying something about his business but I'd been so exhausted that my mind hadn't really processed any of it. I can also recall the taller young man with the long bangs that conceal a great portion of his face. A whisper of memory comes to me and I can almost hear his voice: _"I see you don't need me to look after you this time..."_ And then, of course, there's the young man with the long braid. In the photo, he has his arm slung over my shoulder and he's leaning against my side. And I wonder... is it my imagination or is my image actually leaning back against him as well?  
  
Regarding the photograph, I take in the faces of these five friends and feel my hands start to tremble. I set it aside and pick up the shop's copy of the order sheet. The name, Hilde Schbeiker, means nothing to me. Would it have meant something to Heero?  
  
I have to leave again. On this colony, I'm too close to Heero's past. If I remain, they'll find me. I realize how lucky I am to get this warning so far in advance.  
  
"Is everything okay?"  
  
I look up at the owner of the small framing store and nod. With my usual efficiency, I clean and assemble and wrap. Collecting all of the order sheets for each completed piece, I head for the phone to make calls for the last five minutes of my shift. Not surprisingly, I save the Schbeiker order for last.  
  
As I dial the number, I hope for a voice mail message. And then I change my mind, hoping for a real person; a voice mail would be evidence that I'd been in the vicinity. If I'm really lucky, I'll speak to someone who won't recognize the sound of my voice.  
  
"Hello. You've reached..."  
  
Shit. Voice mail. I clear my throat and anxiously wait for the beep. "Hello. This message is for Hilde Schbeiker. I'm calling from You've Been Framed to let you know that your framing order is complete and you can pick it up anytime at your convenience. Thank you."  
  
And just as I lift my shaking hand to the disconnect button, a voice comes over the line. A woman's voice. A voice I don't recognize. But I recognize the name she gasps.  
  
"Heero? Heero, is that—?"  
  
I hang up. Time to move.  
  
_Now._  
  
I clock out and bid my boss good bye. I don't tell her this is likely to be the last time she'll ever see me.  
  
...  
  
The spaceport is nearly empty this time of day. I slump in a seat in the lobby and wait for my flight. The meager weight of my single bag rests against the side of myfoot. It had taken me fifteen minutes to pack. In the two months since I'd fled from the hospital, I hadn't bothered to collect many material possessions. Perhaps I'd been subconsciously waiting for this day to come.  
  
Bored and anxious, I watch as the activity around the gate I'm staking out increases. As uniformed service personnel get ready to receive in-coming passengers, I close my eyes and sigh. In less than two hours, I'll be on my way to nowhere. Again.  
  
I wonder how many times I'll have to pick up and run like this. Surely not for the rest of my life? The thought causes a significant ache in my throat. I attempt to distract myself from the thought by watching the spaceport employees open the gate doors. Soon, a slow trickle of rumpled-looking passengers begins to pour into the terminal. I glance at the clock, counting down the minutes until my own escape.  
  
Momentarily, I wonder if I should have stolen aboard a shuttle again, like I had before. But no, now I have money and a passport. There's no reason to take the risk. I'll be gone from here soon. I can't risk getting arrested and detained... _discovered._  
  
The foot traffic thickens until a veritable herd of people are passing before me. I don't bother to study them. I mind my own business, hands fisted deep in my jacket pockets. I begin to compile the list of everything I'll need to do once I arrive at my destination. A more complete plan begins to take shape within my mind. I'm feeling more confident by the moment. I can do this. I _can_ do this.  
  
Only the stragglers are emerging now. Again, I don't pay them any attention. Why would I? They are coming as I am going...  
  
But then a specific movement draws my attention. The sway of a hip, the line of a jean-clad leg, the sound of the heavy tread of boots on the worn carpet... the motion reminds me of...  
  
I can feel the traveler glance in my direction and as soon as he does, he stops dead in his tracks. I look up and into shocked royal blue eyes.  
  
It's him.  
  
"Heero?" he croaks.  
  
Oh, shit.  
  
I don't bother trying to act the part of the specter he no doubt believes me to be. I follow my instincts.  
  
I run.  
  
...  
  
I lose myself in the crowd -- twisting and turning, doubling back and ducking around corners. And as I move, my brain feels like it's going to be torn in half by the twin, opposing thoughts competing for dominance.  
  
I cannot -- absolutely _cannot_ \-- believe my abominable bad luck. Of all the places in the Earth and the colonies... How had this happened? If I had only waited for a later flight... If I had only booked passage on a shuttle departing from a different terminal...  
  
However, if I had done anything differently, I wouldn't have gotten to see him again. He'd looked tired and stressed, but... but he's still beautiful.  
  
I slow my pace until I'm drifting along the sidewalk toward the taxi stand with the rest of the herd. I don't bother to look back over my shoulder. I've lost him by now. My jaw clenches and I raise a hand to my face, burying my cheek in my palm and rubbing my fingertips over my right eye. If anything, the ache in me is more painful than it had been the first time I'd run from him.  
  
But, damn it, I'm not who he thinks I am. And I can't help but wonder, as I often have when no distractions present themselves to me, if I'd been the cause. Had I done something to get rid of Heero Yuy? What had happened to him? And why am I living his life?  
  
I reach for the open door of the cab and begin to lean forward into the shadowed haven of the backseat when a hand grasps my arm and whirls me around.  
  
For a moment, I'm too stunned to struggle.  
  
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demands, nodding for the person behind me to take my ride.  
  
I lean away from him and glare. What right does he have to dictate where I go and what I do?  
  
"God damn it, Heero! I've been looking for you for months. All of us have! How could you just take off like that? Still injured? I thought we were friends!" He glares at me without reservation. "Friends help each other," he concludes, looking like he'd rather rip out my small intestines and strangle me with them.  
  
I retreat, my face schooled into a mask deliberately lacking any emotion. "We are not friends," I tell him. And it hurts me that the first words I've spoken to him are these.  
  
His grip relaxes and I free myself from him. Turning, I continue to head down the street. I pray he'll let me walk away.  
  
"What the hell do you mean we're not friends?" he shouts as he sprints to catch up with me.  
  
I turn and hold up my hand, stopping him from coming any closer. He jogs to a halt, his face tense with anger and expectation. I give him the best explanation I can: "You don't know me."  
  
His body tenses and a harsh gleam enters his eyes. "The hell you say," hecounters. "I _do_ know you, Heero Yuy. You're—"  
  
"Not Heero Yuy," I interrupt.  
  
A moment of startled silence emanates from him. "What?" he finally asks.  
  
I repeat, "I am not Heero Yuy." His confusion is genuine and it hurts me to see it, but I don't know how to make him understand. I offer, "I'm sorry."  
  
I turn away again and this time I think he remains where I leave him. I'm both relieved and anguished. But then:  
  
"The hell!" He practically spits the words out of his mouth. In an instant, he's gotten a grip on my jacket and is spinning me around to face him. I glimpse the dark anger in his face and a flurry of motion at his side before my breath explodes from my lungs in a powerful rush. I blink back the instinctive tears that come to my eyes. It's then, as I'm nearly doubled over, that I realize he'd punched me.  
  
"Wh... why?" I gasp.  
  
"I told you," he replies calmly. Coldly. "You owe me for X18999. Now seems like as a good a time as any to collect."  
  
I meet that hard, chilling gaze for a brief instant before I feel my body begin to fail me. Half-healed ligaments and bones roar with pain in the heartbeat before I'm tumbling head-first into familiar darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: Trowa's comment about Heero not needing "looking after" refers to Episodes 12 and 13 of the series when Trowa nursed Heero back to health after he self-destructed Wing.


	3. Chapter 3

"You found him. I don't believe it, Maxwell."  
  
A snort. "As if I'd drag you away from your cushy desk job for anything less."  
  
"My 'cushy desk job' happens to be a very important element in maintaining the peace all of us fought so hard for," is the tense reply. "I don't see you doing anything to ensure that peace."  
  
"Piss off, Wufei. I've _earned_ a vacation in this peace before someone else comes along with his Gundam and screws it up."  
  
"If you have something to say to me, then just say it, Maxwell."  
  
"I don't think I have to tell you what's on my mind."  
  
A tense silence spills into the room.  
  
"I make mistakes, Duo. Just like everyone else. All I'm trying to do is put things right again. As best I can."  
  
"I... I know. I... shouldn't have come down on you like that, man. I'm just... kinda pissed off at the whole damn universe today."  
  
Before Wufei can reply, a knock on the door interrupts. I hear the soft sound of footsteps as someone proceeds to answer the summons.  
  
"Hey guys."  
  
"Duo. Is he really here?" someone new asks, concerned and excited.  
  
"Just through there."  
  
A third, quieter voice intones, "How long has he been out?"  
  
"Hm... from the time I punched him on the street until about five minutes ago. Isn't that right, Heero?"  
  
I sigh. I've been found out. I roll over on the bed and sit up, glaring at the figure leaning nonchalantly in the open doorway. Behind him, I can see three others. I recognize all of them from the photograph of the five friends.  
  
I need to leave. I decide they won't stop me. "Where's my bag?" I demand, my gaze sweeping the room a second time and still not locating it.  
  
"Somewhere safe," the braided youth replies smoothly. "As is your money."  
  
My hands go to my pockets.  
  
"And your passport."  
  
Shit. I run my hands through my hair before dropping them to my lap. I then turn my head to glare at him. "What do you want from me?" I growl.  
  
"Why'd you take off like that?" he's quick to ask.  
  
Of course he asks me the one question I can't answer without explaining the whole bloody mess. "What do you care?" I challenge.  
  
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" he explodes. "I sure as hell don't know _why_ I care, seeing as how you're such a complete and utter asshole, Yuy. But I _do_. All of us _do_. Not that you've given any of us a reason recently to continue doing so..."  
  
Slowly, I stand. I hurt everywhere but I don't let it show more than I'm capable. I ignore his obvious request for me to enlighten them and advance toward the doorway.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he growls.  
  
"Get out of my way," I reply flatly.  
  
"Make me."  
  
I glare.  
  
He chuckles darkly. "Those don't work on me anymore, Heero Yuy."  
  
I get right in his face and my anger drives me to spell it out for him. "My name is not Heero Yuy."  
  
The three hovering in the living room behind my adversary pause, seeming to hold their breaths.  
  
"Oh, puleeze," he drawls, rolling his eyes at me.  
  
"No," I say quietly. "You please. Please listen to me. I am not Heero Yuy. We are not friends. You do not know me. Just leave me alone."  
  
I can't take the time to read the reactions of the others. I'm too busy attempting to guard myself from the wry amusement glittering in those dark eyes. "Not Heero Yuy, huh? And what if I can prove otherwise?"  
  
I tense but he doesn't make a move toward me.  
  
"On your right bicep is a round scar about a centimeter in diameter," he tells me.  
  
I don't have to check to know it's there. I've wondered about it. There are many scars on this body I've wondered about. Often.  
  
He continues, "Where I shot you."  
  
What the hell is going on here? My eyes narrow. Is he Heero's friend or not? Why would he have shot his friend? Fuck it. I don't want to know. I don't care. I just want out. "Move," I command.  
  
"Fuck off," he replies.  
  
So this is how it's going to be. Back to running and hiding. Back to living on the streets until I can get enough cash to put together a new identity. Shit.  
  
The anger fuels my muscles as I attempt to shoulder my way past him. He takes the hit, not making a move to stop me until I'm through the doorway. It's then that I feel his arms clamping around me from behind.  
  
"Let go," I enunciate through clenched teeth.  
  
"No."  
  
I begin to struggle. He's strong. Stronger than I would have thought. I stumble backwards, slamming my body against him until I've managed to force him into thewall. Still he doesn't let go.  
  
I start to get really angry. Doesn't he understand that I don't want to hurt him? That I don't know what to say? That I don't know how to convince him? That I'm not sure I want to? The memory of his caring for me is not something I want to taint with his distrust, his pain, his contempt.  
  
"Let! Me! GO!!" I scream, thrashing within his grip in earnest now. Still, his hold is unbreakable.  
  
"Duo! Stop! Stop it, Duo! Look at him! Just _look_ at him!" the blonde yells over the din of blood rushing through my eardrums.  
  
In an instant, Duo's reversed our positions. I'm backed against the wall with his hand at my throat. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he yells at me.  
  
Gasping for air, I repeat the only phrase that comes to mind, "I'm not Heero Yuy."  
  
His fingers tense around my throat and I'm just too fucking tired to care anymore. If he kills me, fine. I'm getting kind of tired of playing this game anyway.  
  
"Duo..."  
  
I open my eyes as the hand around my throat relaxes. I see the young blond man with his hand resting on my assailant's elbow, easing him away. Only when the pale youth has managed to come between us does he meet my gaze.  
  
He tells me, "I believe you."  
  
Behind him, the furious teenager throws up his arms and begins to pace. "Great. Just fucking great! Go on and encourage him, Q!"  
  
The blonde ignores him. Taking a step back from me, he holds out his hand. "I'm Quatre," he says introducing himself. "Quatre Reberba Winner."  
  
Everyone, even the furious teen everyone calls "Duo," pauses to watch the exchange. Slowly, I accept the handshake. In a voice that sounds rusty and misused, I croak, "Sasha. Sasha Abei."  
  
...  
  
I sit in perfect silence, absorbing what Duo Maxwell and Chang Wufei have told me about Heero Yuy. I don't know if I can believe them. A fifteen-year-old soldier? Gundam pilot? Terrorist? Savior of the Earth and the colonies?  
  
Oh, God.  
  
I glance to my right where Quatre Reberba Winner sits quietly, watching me. Quickly, I tear my gaze away before he can read the silent, desperate call for help in my eyes.  
  
This... all of this can't be true. And I don't know these people -- Heero's friends -- well enough to trust them.  
  
"Heero?" Duo Maxwell prompts me as I continue to stare at the laptop screen in front of me.  
  
I glance away from Heero's file, jaw clenching, in order to glare at Duo for using the name I've reminded him so often isn't mine.  
  
He looks slightly chagrined for a moment but then braves, "Is any of it coming back?"  
  
My glare intensifies. "I don't have amnesia."  
  
Wufei stares thoughtfully back at me. "Let's not exhaust all avenues prematurely."  
  
A small noise rumbles past the throat of the young man called Trowa Barton.  
  
Wufei transfers his gaze away from me and attempts to make eye contact with the gaze that's partially veiled behind Trowa's long bangs. "Barton?" he prompts.  
  
Trowa shrugs eloquently. "It's been over two months and he hasn't remembered anything."  
  
"Is that unusual?" Wufei inquires.  
  
"Very."  
  
Duo leans back in his chair and gestures loosely in Trowa's direction. "Yeah, you're the expert on amnesia, man. Tell us about it."  
  
Trowa arcs a brow in Duo's direction before looking squarely, I believe, at me. "You haven't had any instances of familiarity? Anxiety attacks? Headaches?" he inquires quietly.  
  
I sigh, cradle my forehead in my hands and shake my head. Their obsession with amnesia is getting tiresome, but I honestly can't blame them. It's the easiest and most logical explanation. Still...  
  
Duo snorts. "Oh, c'mon, Tro. Heero's never been typical about anything. It's hardly a shock he's got to make everything more complicated now."  
  
Mouth barely moving, I growl at him, "I'm not Heero."  
  
"So you continue to remind us," Wufei interjects flatly before Duo can articulate the dark, obstinate gleam in his eyes.  
  
Rising smoothly from his chair, Trowa comes around the table and leans over my shoulder to gain access to the computer before me. "Here," he says softly, "let's give this one more chance."  
  
"What are you bringing up?" I say, a little apprehensively.  
  
He says nothing, only sends a sidelong glance my way in reply.  
  
Twisting the corner of my jacket between the fingers of my left hand, I wait for this new piece of the puzzle that is the mysteriously absent Heero Yuy. During this moment, I discover the feel of a gaze on me. I turn, catching Duo examining me with obvious speculation.  
  
I sigh and wearily demand, "What?"  
  
"When are you just gonna give it up, man?" he replies, the hard look in his eyes clashing with his playful tone. "You _are_ Heero Yuy, dude. What I can't figure out is why you're putting all of us through this crap. I mean, what can you possibly be gaining by pretending to have forgotten about us?"  
  
"Forgotten about you?" I repeat, flabbergasted. "I'd have to have _met_ you in order to have forgotten you!"  
  
Duo's fist slams down on the table, rattling the glasses and laptop on its surface. "God _damn_ it! Quit fucking around with us, Heero!"  
  
A strangled yet quiet scream vibrates past my lips. I'm beyond frustration. My hands curl into fists as my forehead connects with the table in front of me. "Not Heero Yuy," I mutter, bouncing my skull off of the hard surface with every word.  
  
I don't notice the startled silence reverberating around me in the wake of my actions until my breathing has calmed once again. A soft touch at my shoulder pulls me back to the matter at hand and the present company. With a deep breath, I lean back and glance up. Trowa's soft green eyes are the first things I see and I'm glad for it. Without words, he shores me up. He gives me the strength to turn my attention to the laptop screen but when I do so, I frown.  
  
"Who is that?" I ask, staring at the image of an attractive young girl with long blond hair tumbling past her shoulders and a sweet smile lighting her features.  
  
Very quietly, Trowa informs me, "Sylvia Noventa."  
  
Something causes me to hesitate. Perhaps it's the look in his visible eye. Perhaps it's the carefully modulated tone of his voice. I don't want to ask, but I know I have to.  
  
"Did... Heero know her?" My near-whisper seems to echo in the room.  
  
Trowa nods once. "Yes." Then, turning back to the computer, he quickly brings up a second screen. I read the news report with increasing dread, my eyes lingering over the words "Gundam Pilot 01" and "Marshal Noventa" and "assassinated."  
  
Oh, God.  
  
"It was an accident," he tells me as a sudden numbness floods through me. "We were tricked -- all of us -- by Oz. You -- _Heero_ \-- went after the shuttle. It wasn't until after that we learned how the Oz General, Treize Kushrenada, had manipulated us into taking out the Alliance pacifists for him."  
  
Gently, my shaking hands push Trowa's aside and I recall the image of Sylvia Noventa.  
  
"Heero offered her what he could in an attempt to ease her grief," Trowa continues, betraying neither reluctance nor anxiety.  
  
"And what was that?" I rasp.  
  
I can hear Trowa drawing in a breath; I can _only_ hear it because I am incapable of tearing my gaze away from the image of this young innocent.  
  
He tells me, "His life."  
  
"I didn't do this."  
  
Again, silence befalls the room. After a moment, I realize the voice that had spoken is mine. No, is _Heero's._  
  
"I didn't do this," I repeat. But the words are in Heero's voice and Heero _had_ done this. I'm inside of him. So I _am_ him. Aren't I? So these are my crimes, aren't they? My dead?  
  
I seek out Trowa's gaze. "Not me," I tell him. "I didn't... I didn't..."  
  
But Trowa doesn't offer me any comfort. Either he cannot or he chooses not to. It doesn't matter. I turn away and find myself gazing into wide blue eyes.  
  
"Quat...re..." I stumble over his name. "It wasn't... I..."  
  
His image before me begins to blur. I can feel myself falling toward him, can feel his hands on my shoulders pulling me closer. I bury my face -- this foreign face -- in Quatre's armpit. My hands grasp his shoulders in return with the intention of bruising. I swallow once, attempting to regain my voice. I have to convince them... convince _myself_ that this guilt does not belong to me.  
  
But then his voice, so quiet and kind, comes over my shuddering form. "No, it wasn't you, Sasha. Not you."  
  
The relief is painful and I shiver reflexively against him. I can feel his hand rub soothingly against my back.  
  
He tells me, "I believe you."  
  
If I'd had the voice, I would have thanked him. But then the room is in motion again beyond me and my mutterings would have simply gotten lost in the noise had I managed them.  
  
"Jesus, what the hell happened to him?" Duo's voice carries over the rattling of my harsh breaths.  
  
After a long pause, Trowa contributes, "There was some head trauma." But even he doesn't sound convinced that this is the sole cause of the situation.  
  
Wufei's voice is reluctant when he speaks. "There is one... possibility we haven't considered yet," he begins.  
  
"I'm not going to like this am I?" Duo predicts in a dry tone. I can just imagine his unfriendly expression.  
  
"I doubt it," Wufei replies, seemingly unconcerned about angering the other youth. He takes a deep breath and continues. "The healers of L5 recognized a phenomenon wherein, after a... traumatic event or near-death experience, the individual changes. Friends and family feel as if they're living with a stranger."  
  
"I've heard of that," Quatre says softly, still holding me.  
  
"They believed it was possible that while the body's original... soul moved on, another could take its place."  
  
Slowly, I lift my head and, ignoring the expressions of the others, I focus on Wufei. In a grating voice, I ask, "You... really think that's what's happened here?" His words strike a chord in me, ringing true. So although my tone is doubtful, it's not because of the suggestion. It's because I can't believe Wufei is taking his own words seriously.  
  
He almost looks uncomfortable. "I think it's... a possibility," he concedes. His gaze flickers away briefly before hesitantly returning. And in that moment of anticipatory silence, I know he's begun to wonder if I'm telling the truth; if I really am a stranger in Heero Yuy's body. "It's possible that you are a... stand-in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: Duo's snarky remarks to Wufei refer to the events in "Endless Waltz" when Wufei fought for Dekim Barton, nearly reintroducing a state of war in the Earth Sphere.
> 
> :: And, don't forget, Duo shot Heero in Episode 2 of the series.
> 
> :: "A fifteen-year-old soldier? Gundam pilot? Terrorist? Savior of the Earth and the colonies?": A general description of Heero as he was during the series.
> 
> :: Trowa's experience with amnesia comes from when he lost his memory and suffered something akin to anxiety attacks in mid-series.
> 
> :: Heero was tricked by Treize Kushrenada into killing Marshall Noventa in Episode 7.
> 
> :: Heero offered his life to Sylvia Noventa in exchange for her grandfather's, which he'd taken by accident. Episode 14.


	4. Chapter 4

Heero Yuy had not been in the habit of taking long, hot showers.  
  
I close my eyes and lean into the spray, admitting to myself that I'm indulging in one at this very moment for that very reason. The more I learn about him, the more I strive to be unlike him.  
  
I inhale the thick steam. Without looking, I know my skin is blushing in silent objection to the near-scalding water. I don't listen. I need this. I need to wash, peel, burn him away until only I am left.  
  
"My name is Sasha Abei," I whisper to myself so softly I'm almost merely mouthing the words.  
  
Sasha Abei. The name I'd chosen during my exodus from Earth. The name that had poured from my lips as I'd jerked awake when the docking clams had shaken the vessel.  
  
The white noise of the droplets striking the bath liner reminds me of the sound of shuttle engines. The sound of space. I shiver in the intense heat, remembering the intense cold.  
  
As my shoulders hunch forward, I also realize I'm in the process of hiding. I'm hiding from Heero's friends. I'm hiding from Heero's ghost. Perhaps I'm even attempting to hide from his guilt. I hold out my hands and watch the clear water sluice over my calloused skin... and I wonder if the blood will ever truly be washed away.  
  
I throw myself out of the shower with a full-body shake designed to cover the uncontrollable shiver that rips through my every muscle. I wrap a towel around my waist and another around my shoulders, trying to feel warm. My fingers tighten in the terrycloth as I stare at the fogged mirror. Somewhere in there, is my reflection.  
  
I stand there for several moments before I realize that having removed myself from the still-running shower has had the result of allowing me to hear the voices of the others. I don't want to hear their words, but I kind of do. I want to hear their voices, their concern, their caring. Is it possible that they still care even though I'm not their old friend?  
  
But then, they haven't honestly given up on prying Heero Yuy out of me.  
  
Not yet, anyway.  
  
"Are you going to be all right? Keeping an eye on Sasha by yourself?"  
  
A long sigh precedes the reply. "Damn it, Q. Don't call him that. You're just feeding his delusions."  
  
"But, Duo... what if he's really—"  
  
"Shut up, Quatre."  
  
"Grow _up_ , Duo," the young man rallies. " _Accept_ the possibility that Heero's soul has moved on!"  
  
"How can you just give up on him like that? After one conversation?"  
  
"What? Duo, listen—"  
  
But he doesn't. He charges right ahead, swearing passionately, "Well, I'm not giving up on him. That is Heero. Somewhere in there. And I'm going to keep digging until I find him!"  
  
"Duo..."  
  
"Shut up, Quatre. Just shut up. He's not dead. He's just... lost. It's the amnesia. I'll find him."  
  
There's a long pause, so long I'm not sure anyone is ever going to speak. But then Trowa contributes, "During the war, Heero Yuy had to do a lot of things he might be better off not remembering." A small sound drifts through the flimsy door as Trowa rises from his seat. "I know you miss him. I know you feel like you missed the chance to really get to know him. But is bringing Heero Yuy back the best thing we can do for him?"  
  
"But you once told us that you'd rather have the bad memories than none at all," Wufei reminds him.  
  
"Yes. _I_ would. Sasha, on the other hand, doesn't want them. Don't force the issue, Duo. He'll only run again."  
  
"What's to force? That's Heero and he's trying to screw with our heads for no good reason."  
  
"Duo," Trowa responds calmly, "you didn't know Heero anymore than I knew him. We fought together. We bled together. In the time I spent looking after him, I never once asked him about his past or his dreams or his opinions. None of us did. None of us could. Take the chance to get to know him as he is now. You might be surprised. You might like this person he's become even more than the quiet guy we all depended on during the war."  
  
"This might be his only chance to be genuinely happy," Quatre inserts softly. "Are you really going to try to take that away from him?"  
  
"How can ignorance make anyone happy? The past catches up to you eventually," Duo counters.  
  
"That's why he needs you, Maxwell," Wufei counters. "We'll all be in touch. I'll look into some things and get back with you if I find anything that might help."  
  
"What are you going to tell Commander Une?" Trowa asks.  
  
Wufei answers, "That depends on if I can find a way to support the stand-in theory."  
  
"This is crap," Duo mutters, moving toward the living room windows.  
  
"You said the healers of your clan had, for the most part, recognized this phenomenon," Quatre muses. "It's possible there are other cultures out there that do as well. And it's possible that there are researchers who have developed tests..."  
  
"That's what I was thinking," Wufei tells him.  
  
"I'll look around in the WEI R &D labs," Quatre offers.  
  
"Guys," Trowa says softly. "I have to go."  
  
"You're leaving without saying good bye to _Sasha?_ " Duo sings in a mocking voice.  
  
"What is your problem, Duo?" Quatre demands.  
  
"Problem?" Duo parrots, innocently. "I'm just fine-fucking-tastic, dude."  
  
"Maxwell," Wufei's uncompromising voice enunciates, "no matter how much you disagree with this situation can you at least admit that the person we think is our old friend believes he doesn't know us. This is real to _him_. Can you accept that?"  
  
Duo sighs heavily. "Yeah, I've never known him to be a consummate actor."  
  
"You have to be there for him, Duo," Trowa continues. "You're the only one of us who doesn't have any other obligations at the moment. I'll see what I can work out. Until I can manage to make it back here, you know how to contact me if you need anything."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know, Tro. Thanks."  
  
"It's no trouble, Duo."  
  
I decide I've heard about all I'm going to. I carefully step into the shower and let the cooling water flow over me as I assess the situation.  
  
Quatre and Wufei will try to find a way to prove I'm not really Heero Yuy anymore, Trowa is leaving, a Commander Une is -- presumably -- interested in my whereabouts, and they've assigned Duo to keep an eye on me. I'm not sure how I feel about any of that. And I'm especially not sure Duo and I will make it through one day, unsupervised, without killing each other.  
  
I turn off the tap and towel dry quickly. With any luck I'll manage to catch Trowa before he goes. He's one more voice of reason to build a buffer between myself and Duo. And I have a few things yet to say to that guy.  
  
I dress in selections from my bag which Duo had reluctantly handed over. Earlier, I'd found and counted all of my money, relieved that he'd given it all back to me. My passport, however, he'd apparently decided to hold on to.  
  
Tossing my damp towel over the shower door, I stuff my old clothes back in my bag and make my exit. Or entrance. Whatever.  
  
In the act of reaching for his overnight bag, Trowa pauses.  
  
I make a point of looking from him to the bag then back again. "You're leaving already?" I try to keep my voice as neutral as possible. For now. I need to feel out this situation. Make them realize that while I may not be able to pilot a mobile suit or know a dozen ways to kill a man with my bare hands, that doesn't mean I'll just roll over and go along with every single thing they dictate to me.  
  
Trowa nods in answer to my observation.  
  
"Lucky you," I drawl. Turning to Duo, I dare to stick my hand into the lion's cage by saying, "Have you come to your senses and decided to give me my passport yet?"  
  
Duo only smiles. "I'm keeping it safe for you," he replies. "Let's just leave it at that."  
  
"Let's not and say we did," I return quickly.  
  
"That's catchy. I think I might have used that line when I was about, oh, _twelve_."  
  
"It's _my_ passport," I point out to all present.  
  
Duo crosses his arms over his chest. "And?"  
  
I don't have to pretend my frustration. Slinging my bag over my shoulder I head for the front door. "Just stay the hell away from me, Duo," I growl.  
  
"Love to, but can't!" he calls from behind me.  
  
And since no one has tried to stop me, I have the satisfaction of slamming the door behind me as I leave. I have all of three steps to contemplate that little show I'd just put on -- three steps to feel at least partially pleased with myself for playing the part of the pissed off, colony-locked hostage -- before the door opens again and someone slips out into the hall with me.  
  
My tension returns in an instant. "What _now?_ "  
  
"Calm down, Sasha," Trowa tells me. "I was just on my way out, remember?"  
  
I glance over my shoulder at him and take note of his accomplice. "Then what's Quatre doing with you?"  
  
The fair-haired young man steps forward and tells me with a humble air, "I was hoping we could talk before I left."  
  
"Talk," I repeat. "About what?"  
  
Quatre smiles. "Let's walk, shall we?" he asks, inviting me to lead the way. I do, reluctantly. We three pass a very long, _very_ silent moment in the elevator descending to the street level of the old apartment building. On the steps outside, beneath the illumination of the street lamps, Trowa holds out his hand to me in a gesture of farewell. His clasp is warm and firm but gentle, his muscles supple but his skin calloused.  
  
"I'm glad we met, Sasha Abei. Please allow me to stay in touch."  
  
Cautiously, I nod once. He seems to find this response satisfactory. With a slight nod in Quatre's direction, Trowa turns and heads toward the spaceport without another word. Now alone with Quatre, I wait for him to lead the way but he simply looks back at me until I take the initiative and start walking. I don't dare lead him back to my place—not that Duo won't be able to find out where I live and work in about five minutes with my passport as his disposal... Still, it's a matter of pride, of territory. I didn't invite Quatre to see my place. He invited me for a walk.  
  
So we walk.  
  
"I'd like to apologize for Duo's behavior," Quatre begins after a dozen or so paces.  
  
"You might like to," I reply, "but you can't."  
  
Quatre continues, seeming to ignore my comment, "The road we took during the war was never the easiest one. We all came to depend on one another. We all watched each other's backs at one point or another. Even when the odds we so bad we were sure we were going to end up dying together." Quatre turns to look at me, searching my gaze. "We didn't know much about each other, but we _knew_ we could count on another pilot to have our backs, to take point when necessary, and to patch us up when needed."  
  
I frown considering those words and the bonds they describe. He makes me almost wish I'd been there.  
  
"You almost died once," he continues softly. "Well," he amends with a shrug, "Heero almost died."  
  
"How?" I ask, not really because I want to know but because I want to fill the silence. In the wake of a statement like that the dead calm of the colony is eerie.  
  
"He was ordered to self-destruct with his mobile suit."  
  
" _Ordered?_ " I toss back. What kind of people had Heero fought for that they would tell him to give his life like that? What kind of person had Heero been that he'd acquiesced?  
  
"The engineers of our mobile suits refused to hand over the technology to Oz," Quatre elaborates.  
  
"Did they order you and the others to... self-destruct?"  
  
Quatre shakes his head. "No. They didn't." He sighs, letting himself wade a little deeper into the memories. "I spent time with Duo after Heero detonated his Gundam and he told me about how they'd met, the initial rivalry, and all the favors they'd done for each other along the way."  
  
"So they were friends," I venture, feeling an odd twist in my gut. I think it's guilt. Or perhaps plain old sorrow.  
  
"Yes," Quatre tells me. "Perhaps best friends."  
  
The pain intensifies just a little more with that. _Best friends._ Shit. Now more than ever, I wish I could give these people their friend back -- give Duo his best friend back.  
  
"The way Duo spoke of him, I'm not sure Heero really understood what it meant to have a friend, but by the end of his convalescence under Trowa's care, I think he'd begun to really get it. After all," Quatre continues with a grin, "he'd saved Duo from a public execution at Oz's hands."  
  
The silence floods back between us again as we traverse the unremarkable sidewalk. After a long, brooding moment, I have to ask him, "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
"Because you need to understand. Heero and Duo had a connection. It was friendship and rivalry and competition and camaraderie and a hundred other things mixed in. It was complicated and it was tangible." Glancing once more at me, Quatre concludes, "I just wanted to help you see why Duo is having trouble letting him go."  
  
"What about you?" I ask.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Why aren't you having more trouble letting Heero go? You were his friend, too, weren't you?"  
  
The smile Quatre gives me is a sad one. "I never knew Heero beyond the role he was forced into because of the war. I never saw him free or happy. For all I know, you are the person he could have... _would_ have been if he'd been given the chance."  
  
I realize then that even though Quatre has decided to accept me as being different from the person he'd known, he hasn't quite accepted the possibility that that person might be gone. Forever. Never to return. Quatre sees me as a hidden part of Heero rather than his replacement. It's not what I would have wanted -- it is hardly an ideal perspective from my point of view -- but for now it will do.  
  
"So try to go easy on Duo, okay?" Quatre says in a tone that signals the approaching conclusion of our conversation.  
  
"Yeah," I reply dryly. "If he goes easy on me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: The sound and coldness of space refers to an earlier point in "The Stand-In" when "Sasha" stowed aboard a shuttle.
> 
> :: WEI: Winner Enterprises International; R & D: Research & Development.
> 
> :: The event of Heero self-destructing his Gundam is taken from Episode 10.
> 
> :: Duo's imprisonment by Oz and subsequent rescue by Heero is from Episode 19.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good morning, Sasha!"  
  
I nod once in greeting to my employer and wonder at the tedious normalcy of this moment. It's as if I hadn't left yesterday with the intention of not returning, as if I hadn't packed my bag and booked a flight to another colony, as if Duo hadn't dragged me back to his apartment and held me hostage for the remainder of the day. I could almost pretend that the entire episode had never happened. But then I find myself standing in front of the works completed bin, staring at the slanted, block letters distinctive of my handwriting marching down the spine of a thin package.  
  
5633: Schbeiker.  
  
So it hadn't been a dream at all.  
  
I'm a little disappointed and a little... _not_ disappointed.  
  
With a sigh I move to hover over the task list for today. I know that if I work I won't think, and I desperately need to not think right now.  
  
I loose myself in the rhythm of my assignments in the work room. Occasionally, I surface long enough to wonder if being able to so completely ignore what had transpired the night before and it's consequences is a good thing. I'm a little scared, I think, by my ability to block it all out so completely.  
  
My boss has left to have her lunch break and I'm at the front counter looking for some paperwork when I glimpse a figure through the glass door. I almost groan as I recognize the young man reaching for the handle. But I rally quickly. This is my territory. And I won't have to watch every word I say since my boss is around the corner eating a hot dog. I can deal with this. No problem.  
  
But then my day gets immeasurably worse. Duo doesn't duck into the shop when he opens the door. No, he holds it open for someone else. Who just happens to be my boss. I glance at the clock and realize her half-hour break has, in fact, expired.  
  
Shit.  
  
"That was quick," I say, and I'm not sure if I'm talking to my boss or Duo.  
  
My employer laughs. "You weren't having fun without me, were you?" she queries.  
  
I purposefully ignore the knowing gleam in Duo's eyes. He must be able to see how not happy I am to see him so soon. And in the presence of an audience no less.  
  
"Busted," I deadpan.  
  
I think I see the corner of Duo's mouth twitch upward to that and his expression changes from darkly amused to inquisitive. In order to avoid that penetrating stare, I stuff the papers in my hand back into their folder and sigh.  
  
"What are you looking for?" the shop owner asks me and I tell her. "Oh! I was writing some notes on that order this morning. I'll get it if you'll help this gentleman."  
  
I almost laugh at that: Duo, a gentleman.  
  
"Sure," I manage torn between hysterical amusement and grinding my teeth in frustration.  
  
As she disappears into the workroom, Duo leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. Absently, I notice he's wearing the same jacket he'd worn to visit me at the hospital on Earth. He takes his time looking me over which I endure with my best poker face. Not that I play poker. Not that I'm even sure _how_ to play poker...  
  
"I'm actually here to pick something up," he tells me after a moment of silence and from one of his jacket's hidden pockets produces a folded sheet of paper.  
  
I hold out my hand for the receipt.  
  
He arcs a brow at my silent treatment and unfolds his arms enough to lean over the counter, one hand on his hip and the other still cradling the bit of paper between his first and middle fingers. I can see the dare in his eyes and I deftly pluck the receipt from him. I send a dark glare at him through my brows as I unfold the sheet and I suppose I should have seen it coming -- if I'd thought about it, I probably would have -- but when I read the name on the order I just kind of freeze for a moment.  
  
Schbeiker.  
  
Somehow, I should have known. After all, Duo's _in_ the photo. But then... who the hell is Hilde Schbeiker? Does it matter? Why do I care? I don't, I tell myself.  
  
With a mental shrug, I turn away and pull the corresponding parcel from the bin. I set it down on the counter and begin to unwrap it in silence. Duo still leans close, smirking.  
  
"Yeah, I can see you've really got a way with words, there," he drawls.  
  
I resist the urge to glare at him again. Barely. I lift out the framed photograph for his inspection. I have the impression he had intended to merely glance at it, but once redirected, his gaze stays riveted to the image of himself leaning on his best friend. The look of regret morphs quickly into anger which is swiftly shoved aside as a voice comes between him and his thoughts.  
  
"Is that the Schbeiker order?"  
  
"Yeah, it is," I say.  
  
My boss shakes her head as she comes up next to me to get another glimpse of the five friends. "I just can't believe the resemblance between your friend and Sasha," she wonders aloud. "It's absolutely uncanny."  
  
Duo chuckles. "Creepy, huh? Well, they say we all have a double out there somewhere."  
  
"That they do," she agrees.  
  
I proceed to wrap the brown craft paper once more around the photograph. "I see it's already been paid for in full," I say, turning toward our computer. "I'll just get you your final receipt."  
  
"Cool," Duo says, his voice oddly without hidden barbs. The friendly tone surprises me enough to cause my fingers to falter on the keys. "Man," he continues, "the weather geeks have got a gorgeous day going on out there, huh? Barbeque weather."  
  
"Isn't it lovely?" my boss replies enthusiastically. "And it's funny you should mention barbeque because there's this little Indian barbeque cart around the corner that has kebabs to _die_ for. Which reminds me," she continues, turning to me as I rip the final receipt from the printer and staple it to the original. "I was going to recommend it to you when you went for your lunch." She glances at the clock as I hand the parcel and receipt over to Duo. "Why don't you go ahead and just go now?" she asks me.  
  
And what am I supposed to say to that? She's already seen the shop and the fact that I'm not working on anything at this exact moment. "Um... okay," I end up saying and before I know it, I'm holding the door open for Duo and following him out onto the sidewalk.  
  
With Hilde Schbeiker's framed photo tucked under his arm, he matches my stride and we walk in almost companionable silence past the shop's windows. As we do so, I realize how very much more difficult Duo could have made my life just now, but he hadn't. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all. Maybe all it really takes is a friendly gesture... on my part. I'm well aware I haven't made any of those. And since I'm not really looking forward to a repeat of yesterday's interaction, I clear my throat.  
  
"Thanks," I hear myself say.  
  
"For what, man?" he replies, taking my blunt attempt at conversation in stride.  
  
I glance Duo's way. He has this odd expression on his face, like he's thinking about something that doesn't quite make sense to him. It's obvious I don't have his undivided attention, but I mutter, "For not telling my boss you think I'm a certifiable head case who is but won't admit to being your best friend."  
  
"Sure thing," he tells me and I can tell he isn't really listening to me. But then he seems to replay the meager conversation and he actually looks right at me. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again. "You... Heero wasn't my best friend," he informs me quietly.  
  
I frown with the addition of this new piece of the puzzle. Not his best friend? But what about what Quatre had said? What about his reaction to the photograph? What could have inspired such strong emotions -- regret and anger? And what about his daily visits at the hospital? What could have inspired such loyalty? Such dedication? Such understanding?  
  
And then it hits me. Oh, Jesus, I've been stupid. Stupid and insensitive. I can't believe how badly I've handled this entire situation.  
  
The word tangles in on itself in my throat but I cough it up anyway. "Lovers?"  
  
Duo pauses in mid stride -- freezes, actually -- and very slowly directs his undivided attention at me. And for the life of me, I cannot read his expression. And I thought I had a good poker face. The silence rolls along for several seconds and I start to wonder if life comes with a rewind button. One of those would be really useful right about now.  
  
"Lovers?" he repeats in a whisper so soft I almost have to read his lips to catch the word.  
  
"Er..." I say, wondering if I should apologize or not. Yeah, this sure isn't awkward or anything.  
  
I watch Duo struggle to swallow, attempt to chuckle, try to turn away before I catch the sudden blush staining his cheekbones. "Um, no," he tells me. " _Definitely_ not... anything like that. Remotely."  
  
He starts walking again but I don't. I'm too busy being swamped by an epiphany. Suddenly Duo's dedication and grace and violence and stubbornness all make sense.  
  
"I'm so sorry," I tell him, meaning it. He stops walking again but doesn't look at me. His shoulders and back tense, though, so I _know_ he heard me. "If I could bring him back, I would."  
  
Those words are barely more than a whisper, but I mean them. God, I can't believe I'd been jealous of Heero Yuy for having a friend with such a beautiful soul. Not that I now think Duo is any less beautiful, but because this whole mess is so... sad. If only I hadn't somehow gotten rid of Heero... if only he were still here, then Duo might have a chance to tell him how he really feels.  
  
Duo doesn't respond and I can imagine what this seems like to him. Another mind-job. Heero Yuy just screwing around with him. Again.  
  
I bury a hand in my hair as if I'll find the right words hiding amongst my roots. "I... ah... oh, hell," I grouse. Taking a cleansing breath, I finally succeed in stringing more than two coherent words together. "Look, Duo, whatever weird shit is going on here, whatever has happened and wherever Heero is right now... he cares, too."  
  
And with those last few words, I gamble; I reach out and gently curl my fingers around his shoulder. I don't get a response past the slight easing of the tension in his muscles. Hoping I won't royally fuck this up, I continue, "He'd have to be a complete and utter oblivious ass not to care. I barely know you and after two minutes in your company I was wishing you really were my friend. That's why I ran." Oh, crap. I hadn't meant to bring this up. But he sort of turns toward me and I know I have to finish my thought. "I didn't want you to know I wasn't Heero. I wanted you to be able to keep your friend. I thought if I ran you'd be mad, but that would be better than finding out... the alternative."  
  
At last, Duo actually does turn around and look at me. I still can't read his expression. And now I don't know what else to say.  
  
"I'm sorry," I tell him again. "For everything."  
  
His response is not what I would have anticipated. He simply shakes his head at me in a sort of confused wonder.  
  
"What?" I ask, not sure if I really want to know.  
  
"I've... That just sounds weird coming from you."  
  
"What?" I ask again.  
  
A small, sad smile curls his lips. "I'm sorry," he tells me.  
  
For a very confusing moment I think _he's_ actually apologizing to me, but then I realize that's his answer. "Wait a minute," I say, "you're telling me that during all the time you knew Heero, he never apologized for anything?"  
  
Slowly, Duo shakes his head.  
  
Yet another thing I discover I don't like about the guy who used to rent this same space. I know my expression reveals the fact that I'm getting a little irked, but I don'tcare. "Did he ever do anything _right?_ " I demand in a flare of temper.  
  
Duo blinks at me for a moment before his eyes narrow and his lips twitch. Then he's throwing back his head and laughing out loud.  
  
"What?" I say a little confrontationally.  
  
Winding down, Duo looks squarely at me again. "Yeah," he says, "Heero did manage to get a thing or two right every once in a while. Everyone thought he was perfect, after all. The perfect soldier."  
  
I shake my head. "No offense," I tell Duo, "but I don't understand what you saw in him."  
  
Duo grins. "I'll tell you what," he replies amicably, "I'll buy you some Indian barbeque and outline his good points, how's that?"  
  
I grin back. "Works for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: "The Perfect Soldier" is, apparently, not part of the cannon series, but the title associated with Heero Yuy by Western fans.


	6. Chapter 6

Heero Yuy hadn't been perfect. And, oddly enough, that had been the catalyst for Duo's interest in the silent, driven, quick-witted, often-brooding comrade-in-arms. He'd been trained to be the perfect weapon, Duo had said. I can even recall the way he'd leaned across the table to confide that great secret to me. I can recall the way his eyes had lit up upon remembering all the times he'd shared with Heero. I can recall the way his voice had become a tapestry woven with admiration and frustration, with respect and exasperation, with affection and resentment.  
  
The night chill begins to creep into my skin and I shove my hands into my pants pockets. I slouch back against the park bench and stare across the skeletal figures of the jungle gym and swing sets. It's late, I know, but I'm not ready to go back to my apartment.  
  
That in itself is strange. My pathetic, economy-sized apartment is my haven. Or, it had been. Now... as I begin to get to know Heero, as I begin to see the strength of Duo's feelings for him, I'm beginning to wish I really _could_ be Heero.  
  
And that's dangerous.  
  
It's bad enough I'm stuck inside his body. It's bad enough I've inherited his friends. It's bad enough I find myself forgetting that Duo's dedication isn't for _me_ but for _Heero_.  
  
I sigh and lower my head to stretch the knotted muscles at the back of my neck. The line is blurring. I want to be Heero for Duo. But I'm not. And then I look in the mirror and I think to myself maybe I am Heero Yuy, whether I want to be or not.  
  
Carefully, I lean the back of my skull against the warped back of the bench and contemplate the dome of the colony. Under the pretense of examining the artificial stars, I think that all of this confusion could have been avoided if I'd just managed to run.  
  
And keep running.  
  
But how long could I have kept that up? How long before one of them would have found me? How long before one of Heero's old war enemies had recognized my face?  
  
Then it sort of comes to me. I stare up at the fake sky and feel a tangible wave of realization crash into me.  
  
What if I hadn't pushed Heero away?  
  
What if this whole thing isn't _my_ fault?  
  
What if _Heero_ had run away?  
  
What if I'd been dragged into his life against my will?  
  
For a minute, I just sit there, shivering at the implications. It seems plausible: Heero, tired of fighting, of killing, of being revered and hated, had just given up. What if he'd taken off rather than try to sort out the mess his life had become?  
  
For an immeasurable moment, I just sit there, numb. But then, as the idea begins to settle in, I infer something about Heero's character that I find beyond distasteful.  
  
In my pockets, my hands fist. How could he just leave his friends like that? How could he leave Duo like that? How could he not realize how his death would affect him?  
  
I think I hate Heero Yuy.  
  
And I think I'd rather hate him than hate myself.  
  
Still, this helps no one.  
  
I'm still _not_ Heero Yuy.  
  
And Heero Yuy is _still_ the guy Duo wants me to be.  
  
A small whispering voice tempts me to show Duo I'm worthy of his friendship... and more. But that would be wrong. So very, very wrong. I could never be sure if it's me or Heero Duo's seeing when he's looking into these dark blue eyes.  
  
Heero is gone. But the longer I remain in Duo's life, the more hope I give him that one day I'll wake up and remember all of the times he and Heero had spent together. Duo had been adamant about not feeding my delusions. How can I allow myself to feed his?  
  
So that's it, then. I've got to leave. I've got to persuade one of the other guys to let me stay with them. Unless they decide to just cut me loose and let me go where I like… I snort derisively. Yeah, like _that's_ ever gonna happen.  
  
I turn my gaze in the general direction of my apartment. I think I'm almost ready to go back. I know it's weird, but for a little while, there, I'd almost tried to become someone else. And if I'm not Sasha, then I just can't walk through the door of that apartment. It would seem too much like a trespass. Which makes no sense whatsoever because I _am_ Sasha. But...  
  
Ah, hell. I just don't know how to explain it. And I realize I've got to stop trying. What I _do_ have to do is get away from Duo.  
  
...  
  
I'd been tense at work, waiting for him to show up in time for my lunch break.  
  
But he hadn't.  
  
And I'd told myself that I was relieved and to just stop thinking about it and eat my sandwich.  
  
And I had.  
  
I'd employed my ability to close myself off from any and every thought relating to Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy. For the remainder of the work day, I'd been totally focused on my tasks. For all intents and purposes, I'd managed to forget about the creepy mess my life had become.  
  
Maybe that explains why as I'd turned to follow the sidewalk back to my apartment the sight of Duo Maxwell lounging in a doorway had brought me to an immediate halt.   
  
It's shock, I tell myself thereby explaining my reaction. Surprise. I hadn't been expecting to see him. I hadn't prepared myself for the return of all my problems.  
  
I tell myself my state of complete speechlessness has nothing to do with the soft, welcoming smile on his lips, the tight black T-shirt stretching across his chest, the worn jeans defining his slender hips and thighs to perfection, or that familiar jacket -- open and hanging from his shoulders -- that I'd first seen all those weeks ago on Earth.  
  
"Hey," he greets.  
  
I continue to stare at him, marveling at his expression. A line from a song I'd heard somewhere comes to me out of the blue of Duo's eyes: _I saw him approach, wearing a most approachable grin..._  
  
I manage to make an obscure sound in the back of my throat and I watch as Duo's grin widens.  
  
"Heading home?" he asks me.  
  
There's something about him that's... dangerous. The lack of calculation in his expression and the complete relaxation of his features put me on my guard. I cannot afford to think of this young man as my friend. For both our sake's.  
  
My eyes narrow. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," he quips easily. With a wave of his hand, Duo reveals two pieces of cardstock paper sandwiched between his first and middle fingers. He waves them back and forth, a self-satisfied look painting his features.  
  
"What are they?" I ask, knowing he's expecting me to provide him with an opening to explain himself.  
  
Duo takes a step toward me and, holding the slender bits of paper under my nose, tells me, "Tickets."  
  
"Tickets to what?" I reply, playing his game. I try to summon up some exasperation, but I find I'm actually enjoying myself.  
  
His grin widens. "Follow me and find out."   
  
...  
_  
"AHHHHH!!!"_  
  
I can barely hear the girl to my right screaming; the wind rushing up against us tears the sound away. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her fingers clutching desperately to her safety harness. For a moment, I consider shouting something reassuring at her, but I'm too busy grinning.  
  
Through my protective goggles, I stare into the projection screen as I plummet through cloud after cloud. The force of the wind and the pull of gravity combine with the visual effects to simulate a perfect freefall. I laugh as the speed increases but the harness holding me aloft and the weight of my own body pressing into it prevents me from filling my lungs to full capacity and the meager sound is snatched away.  
  
I glance briefly to my left and take in Duo's smiling profile. He'd tucked his braid down the back of his shirt but his long bangs are almost vertical in the constant wind. I don't say anything -- the words wouldn't have been audible anyway -- but Duo somehow senses my attention and looks at me.  
  
Even behind the bulky, cheap plastic goggles, I can clearly see his eyes. For a moment, we just look at each other. Then Duo slowly turns away, closes his eyes, and -- still smiling -- lets loose an exuberant battle cry into the wind.  
  
It feels like an invitation. And I respond. I look down into the screen before tilting my head back, closing my eyes, forcing my lungs to fill, and sending my own holler out into the chaos.  
  
Reopening my eyes, I turn toward Duo, wordlessly asking with a cocky grin, _How was that?_  
  
Looking both shocked and thrilled, Duo slowly smiles back.  
  
I nod once in recognition of his response and turn back to feeling the wind fully against my face. I close my eyes and let the sensation take me where it will. In freefall.  
  
...  
  
I set the food tray down on the table and slide into my seat. Across from me, Duo sits, leaning into his elbows which are propped up on the table, smiling. I've seen that particular smile often this evening. It's a strange mix of speculation, disbelief, hope, and affection. And it's something I don't want to think about too much. Quickly, I divvy up our food, hoping that the action of eating will erase that look.  
  
The indoor amusement park is considerably quieter now. All of the junior high school students and families with children had gone home around nine o'clock, observing some curfew or bedtime, no doubt. Now only young adults wander through the multi-level plaza, many holding hands with a date.  
  
"Having fun?" Duo asks me.  
  
I glance away from my contemplation of the sudden, more-romantic atmosphere of the place and watch him take a bite of his burrito. "Yeah, I suppose," I say. "But you didn't have to so thoroughly kick my ass at stock car racing and basketball jump shots."  
  
Duo laughs. "Aw, you were only down by a few miles and points," he commiserates. "You know what they say: 'I didn't lose; I was only a little behind when time ran out.'"  
  
I snort.  
  
"Besides," Duo continues, "we haven't gone up to the Jurassic Park game yet. You can still redeem yourself."  
  
I arc a brow at him and proceed to add what most people would consider to be an ungodly amount of Tabasco sauce to my nachos supreme. "What's that about?"  
  
With a grin that's almost evil, Duo replies, "Oh, c'mon. You don't _really_ expect me to tell you, do you?"  
  
"That's an unfair advantage," I charge.  
  
"Yup," he agrees.  
  
...  
  
"So here's the rules," Duo begins as we buckle ourselves into our seats which are side-by-side on a rotating platform. "We're on a mission to rescue a bunch of schmucks who decided to breed dinosaurs on this island. We have unlimited rounds and have to shoot as many dinosaurs as possible."  
  
I nod. I can handle that. I hope. But seriously, how hard is it to point and shoot something? I don't even have to worry about recoil.  
  
"Don't shoot the people," Duo adds, unnecessarily, I think. "If a dinosaur gets a hold of one of us, the captured guy has to press one of the red buttons on the armrests as much as he can while the other keeps shooting. If the guy shooting doesn't get the dinosaur to back off in ten seconds, the other guy dies. One of us dies, we both lose. Okay?"  
  
My hands tighten around the plastic gun in my grip. I'm not so sure if I'm going to like this game so much. It was one thing to compete against him, but it's entirely another to be his teammate. Especially when the prizes are either his life or his death. And, yeah, I know it's just a dumb game, but it's the _idea_...  
  
"Ready?" Duo asks, his hand hovering over the green "start" button.  
  
"As I'll ever be," I grumble and Duo commences the game.  
  
The motor beneath the platform on which we're seated whirls and we spin around. Seeing only the black walls of the rest of the small room, I feel myself tense, wondering what we'll find when we finally get around to seeing the projection screen.  
  
But when our seats jerk to a stop, I don't see any threats. Only jungle. I tense even further. The only warning we have is a single person running toward us. Then all hell breaks lose. The next ten minutes are a blur. The only thought I'm aware of as I shoot without mercy or hesitation, regardless of the accuracy of my aim, is that Duo is counting on me. Numerous times, the screen disappears from my sight as we are rotated in a circle. And each time, Duo tosses out a joke or a bit of praise. But the sound of his voice only reminds me of what I'm fighting for. And although he's trying to get me to relax and enjoy myself, he only ends up pushing me further into my role. After confronting a few more scenes, Duo no doubt senses the ineffectiveness of his tactics and no longer bothers to joke around.  
  
"Just relax and have fun, man," he tells me. "You're doing great."  
  
"My aim sucks," I grouch back through gritted teeth.  
  
"Yeah, I know," he replies in an odd, strained tone.  
  
"So don't get caught," I warn him. "Because I'll probably end up shooting you instead of the damn dinosaur."  
  
Beside me, Duo seems to freeze but then the screen flickers to life and reveals a horde of velociraptors rushing toward us. It's tempting to give in to the sensation of being overwhelmed and had I been alone I might have done it. But instead I barely allowed myself to blink as I take aim, time after time, and fire into the melee.  
  
"You have _got_ to chill," Duo says as soon as our seats begin rotating again.  
  
"Easy for you to say," I reply, clutching the gun.  
  
Duo gives me an odd look but I choose not to meet it. "Why is this getting to you so bad?" he wonders aloud. "It's just a—"  
  
"Game," I interrupt. "I know."  
  
And every time the projection starts up again, the challenge is more and more difficult. I have to force myself not to panic, not to give up. I realize, as yet another creature goes down, that I really, truly abhor this game. But what are my options? If I get caught and Duo tries to save me, he'll get caught, too.  
  
The chair swivels, granting us another brief respite.  
  
"Dude..." Duo says.  
  
I attempt to control my ragged breaths. When had I had to start fighting for air? I frown. Probably after I'd started holding my breath so I could concentrate on improving my aim. I can feel myself shaking with the strain caused by constantly pushing myself to do better. So I should have known that I would make a mistake.  
  
But I hadn't.  
  
Out of nowhere, a tyrannosaurus rex surges into my line of sight and lurches for me. I'm forced to abandon my target and I manage to get three shots off before my gun is rendered useless. I've been caught. And I'm so stunned that I don't even think to press the button that will keep me alive. I just sit there, numb.  
  
Then a dark form leans over me and I know it's Duo. I can smell the lingering scent of his shampoo in his hair. I inhale and think I can also detect a hint of his aftershave. It's a belated moment later when I realize that Duo has leaned across me in order to slam his fist repeatedly on the crucial button while still shooting targets left and right, one-handed.  
  
And in the next instant, I'm free and tyrannosaur is gone. As are the rest of the animals that had been attacking us.  
  
The motor beneath us kicks on, spinning us around again. Confronted by the black walls, I almost leap out of my own skin when I feel a hand around mine, tightening my grip on the gun. I look up and into Duo's face. His expression is somber, his mouth unsmiling. Somehow, this had stopped being a mere game for him as well.  
  
"I've got your back," he tells me softly.  
  
I nod, aware of the fact that we have, perhaps, a whole second before we'll be jumping back into the fray.  
  
"In this together," he says.  
  
Those words calm me in a way none of his previous attempts had. When the screen flickers to life again, I'm ready. Duo and I hold off the predators as the people we'd managed to rescue board the helicopter. Then we climb in. Then we're airborne.

  
And it's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: The song Sasha recalls is "The Night I Fell In Love" by Pet Shop Boys from the album: "Release."
> 
> :: The indoor amusement park is based on one in Tokyo, Japan called Joypolis. The stockcar race and Jurassic Park game are based on actual features at Joypolis.


	7. Chapter 7

I smile apologetically as I accept the Styrofoam cup of ice cream Duo hands me. "You saved my ass," I tell him. "I ought to be buying _you_ ice cream."  
  
Duo grins. "Nah, it's the least I can do for dragging you off to a dinosaur infested tropical paradise to rescue a bunch of morons."  
  
"Well, when you put it that way," I reply, "yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
He laughs. Then gestures toward a park bench with his waffle cone. He doesn't know it, but this happens to be the very bench I'd occupied last night, trying to sort everything out. Where I'd realized that I might not be solely responsible for this soul-switching as I'd previously thought. Where I'd realized that the likelihood that this is all Heero's fault is just as possible.  
  
"Besides," he continues sitting down close to me, "I owe you an apology."  
  
I frown into my ice cream. "For what? Not that Jurassic Park game—" I begin, already formulating an argument to convince him.  
  
He shakes his head emphatically. "No. Not that. For... for this whole evening."  
  
I look at him. "What?"  
  
Leaning back in his seat much the way I had done the night before, he stares up at the sky and tells me, "I... I had ulterior motives for asking you to come to the park with me." He rolls his head toward me and continues, "I wanted to see how you'd react to some of the stuff I'd seen Heero do."  
  
I'm about to ask him if he'd really seen Heero shoot dinosaurs, but of course he hadn't. He had probably seen Heero kill people, though. I turn away from him and ignore my ice cream as I stare across the abandoned park. "So this was all a test," I intone flatly. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him flinch.  
  
Turning around to face him once again, I ask abruptly, "How did I do?"  
  
It's a terrible silence that settles between us. I'm getting angry and Duo is... I'm not sure. Uncertain? Anxious? Remorseful? His face, as mobile as it can be, is difficult for me to read in the distant and hesitant lamplight.  
  
"Look, man," Duo begins, daring to sit up and brace his elbows on his knees. "It's not like that. I mean..." He sighs. "Shit, you _knew_ I hadn't bought that stand-in crap."  
  
I _had_ known that. But I remain silent, waiting for the rest of it.  
  
"And now..." Duo runs a hand through his hair and sighs out a breath in exasperation. He shakes his head slowly and his voice becomes tinged with just the barest touch of fear and wonder. "Heero wouldn't have thrown back his head and screamed into the wind. He wouldn't have stalled out his car three times in the span of five minutes. He wouldn't have missed every other shot at the net. He wouldn't have ordered a nacho supreme and gone back for a second. And he..."  
  
Duo's voice trails off just as I'm really starting to care about his observations. I don't know if I should be appalled at myself, but I really, _really_ want to hear this. Duo just shakes his head again, abandoning his comparison.  
  
"Don't stop there," I tell him, keeping my tone as neutral as I can. "What else?"  
  
Duo turns away for a minute before saying in a hushed voice, "He wouldn't have been so concerned about not letting me down on a mission that he'd endanger himself."  
  
"Is that what I did?" I reply despite knowing his words to be true.  
  
"If it isn't then how did it happen?" he comes back quickly. "Why'd you stop breathing whenever we were engaged with a target? Why were your hands shaking so badly at the end?"  
  
"I hated the damn game, all right?" I say, hearing the defensive note in my voice.  
  
Duo does, too. "Why?"  
  
I open my mouth to tell him _exactly_ why I'd hated it but at the last possible second, I back off. "My aim sucks," I hedge.  
  
"So you said earlier. Also something Heero is incapable of. You weren't an ace at the other games and you didn't get anywhere near _that_ tense."  
  
"What does it matter?" I snap, glaring at him.  
  
"It matters because you are a walking contradiction," Duo accuses. "You say you're not Heero Yuy but you look like him. You don't act like him but you can sound just like him. Hell, even a few of your mannerisms are the same. And if you're not Heero then why in the hell did you pick _'Sasha'_ for a new name?"  
  
I blink at him. "What are you talking about?" Does "Sasha" have some significance? Had Heero mentioned liking that name? If he had, then my choosing it had been one hell of a coincidence. Hadn't it?  
  
"Sasha," Duo says in a tone void of all aggression and frustration. Weary and confused, he tells me, "Sasha is the Slavic version of Alexander. Alexander..." he pauses, looking into my eyes before continuing softly, "means 'helper and defender of mankind.'"  
  
I stare at him, stunned. I remember him telling me about Heero's sacrifices, his risks, his total dedication to those he'd fought for. I remember Duo telling me about how Heero had gone after the chunk of a space battle station that would have brought a nuclear winter to Earth had it been permitted to strike it.  
  
"You look me in the eyes and you tell me you're not Heero Yuy," Duo says softly. "But then you choose a name that embodies everything he stood for. Why?"  
  
I stare into Duo's eyes, suddenly understanding he's just as lost as I am. In an instant, my wariness and defensiveness abandon me. The quiet desperation in him pulls me to lean closer, seduces me into whispering, "I don't know, Duo. I don't want to be Heero Yuy. I don't. But when you look at me like that, I honestly wish I was."  
  
His lashes flutter closed at that and he turns away. I can see his profile -- a lighter shadow than the ones beyond -- and I watch him swallow with difficulty, watch his lips compress in order to hold back the pain.  
  
Without stopping to think about my actions, I reach out to him, brushing the backs of my fingers over his cheek. "I'm so, so sorry, Duo. I don't want to hurt you... anymore than I already have."  
  
Eyes still closed, he leans into my touch. The tension around his eyes and mouth eases until a soft breath is exhaled from between his lips.  
  
I cannot adequately describe this moment I find myself sharing with him. I do not know the words to express concepts so deeply buried in my heart that I'd never thought they'd be illuminated -- even for an instant -- by the brilliance of such peace and contentment.  
  
I watch the interaction of our flesh: his skin against mine. I dare to brush the pad of my thumb down his cheek to the corner of his lips and am rewarded with the ghost of a smile. In this moment, my world is all right. I can push aside Heero's ghost and my own fears. All that matters is Duo: that he leans into my touch and smiles at my caress.  
  
But then something catches my attention. Perhaps it's the calluses on my fingertips. Perhaps it's the small webbing of scars I don't remember acquiring. Perhaps it's even Heero's spirit whispering in my ear. Because suddenly, I jerk my hand away, disgusted with myself.  
  
I don't say anything. I can't. I nearly stumble to my feet in my haste to depart. I can feel Duo's gaze on me as I turn away and I close my eyes for an instant, praying he won't come after me.  
  
He doesn't.  
  
But my momentary relief is eclipsed by my own self-rebuke.  
  
Oh God, what had I done? Duo doesn't want _me_. He wants Heero. When he looks at me, he sees _Heero_. I _know_ this.  
  
So why had I reached out to him? Why -- when he hadn't been imagining _me_ touching him but _Heero?_ How can I continue to confuse and betray him with my presence? How can I possibly justify my actions? If I truly care for Duo, then I _must_ leave.  
  
The pain is incredible, but I acknowledge it and the truth it brings:  
  
There can never be anything between Duo and I...  
  
...with the single exception of Heero Yuy's ghost.   
  
...  
  
"Hee-- er, Sasha! What a surprise!"  
  
"Hello, Quatre," I intone, trying to hide my irritation at almost being called by _his_ name. The reminder of who I could _almost_ be -- maybe even who I _should_ be -- is not a welcome one.  
  
"How are things going?"  
  
I don't even bother to debate if I should tell him about last night. I'd managed to shove it aside, where I'm determined the memory of it will remain.  
  
In reply to his query, I snort. "As if you don't get progress reports from Duo regularly," I mutter and am rewarded with Quatre's chagrinned expression.  
  
"Well, it would be nice to hear it from you," he returns gamely.  
  
I open my mouth to tell him exactly how I am and exactly how much I need to get the hell out of here but I pause. I have to consider my words carefully. I do not want make it sound like I blame Duo for this. How can I? From the first moment I'd seen him, rumpled and exhausted and passed out at my bedside, I'd been drawn to him. This _is_ all my fault. Still, I have to be very cautious or else I'll cause more harm than good.  
  
And then I have a flash of memory. It's a moment I'd almost missed. In my haste to get away last night, I'd retracted my touch as if his skin had been poisonous. I'd turned away from him quickly. But not quickly enough. My chest constricts painfully as the infinitesimal glimpse I'd caught of his eyes comes to me. The weak light from the hovering streetlamp had reflected just so and I'd spent a sleepless night trying to convince myself I hadn't seen something I know I had.  
  
Pain.  
  
I'd seen pain in his eyes: rejection, betrayal, all of the things I'd sworn to prevent him from feeling.  
  
"Sasha?" Quatre prompts and I jerk to attention. "What's wrong?"  
  
_Everything,_ I want to say. Because as badly as I want to prevent Duo from being hurt, I've managed to do little else than inflict pain upon him. And if I were to run away now, I would only be continuing to do so. After that brief touch last night, my absence would make him feel like he'd lost Heero all over again.  
  
I can't do that to him.  
  
I won't do that to him.  
  
Somehow, Duo and I will have to work this out between us. Somehow, I have to help him resolve himself with regards to Heero's death.  
  
This is going to hurt like hell, I suspect. But what other choices do I have? None that are appealing, that's for sure.  
  
I sigh, resolving myself to staying and hoping I won't screw things up. Again.  
  
"Sasha?"  
  
I blink, suddenly realizing I'd completely forgotten about Quatre, my audience. Isn't this just turning out to be a splendid morning?  
  
Clearing my throat, I give him my undivided attention. "Could be worse," I hedge. "I... was calling to see how you and Wufei are coming locating someone who can test the stand-in theory. It's... really been on my mind." And I pray to whatever conversation gods there be that he'll believe that.  
  
"Ah," Quatre replies, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Sasha. No luck yet, but we are investigating."  
  
I nod at his image on the vid screen, equally proud of my successful quick save and dismayed at my sudden change of mind. "Well, that's all I was calling for, Quatre," I say into the pause that follows.  
  
Quatre frowns, his expression suddenly suspicious. "Are you sure, Sasha?"  
  
He isn't buying it. Damn it. "Yes," I say firmly. And then: "I appreciate your efforts to sort this out."  
  
Quatre relaxes a little and I surmise he's just decided that I'd been uncomfortable because I'd been having difficulty expressing my gratitude.  
  
"It's no problem at all, Sasha."  
  
I nod once and silently warn myself not to say anything that would threaten the veil of ignorance I am trying to weave over his eyes.  
  
"It was good hearing from you," he tells me. "Don't hesitate to call again if you just want to talk."  
  
"I'll keep it in mind," I tell him, face expressionless. I bid him farewell and disconnect the call. Only after the screen is completely blank do I expel an unsteady breath and clasp my shaking hands together.  
  
For an eternal moment, I'm overwhelmed to the point of being completely lost in the rush of my own pulse and the frantic haze of my incoherent thoughts. I have to close my eyes and force my breaths to even out and deepen. Very slowly, the layers of my panic begin to thin and evaporate until the source is revealed:  
  
Duo is counting on me to be there for him... but how I do keep a grasp on my own sanity when the lines are already so blurred?  
  
The distinction between who I _am_ and who Heero Yuy _had been_ is graying, softening, becoming more malleable with every moment I spend in Duo's company.  
  
And I am very close to not caring if it disappears entirely.  
  
I pull my hands apart in order to bury them in my hair, clutching these strangely dark tresses tightly.  
  
_Could_ I be Heero Yuy?  
  
No.  
  
Well, maybe...  
  
Almost?  
  
My entire body shivers as my muscles protest the strain of my current tension.  
  
I don't know what to do. I'm caught up in this momentum that draws me to Duo, that makes me miss him when we're apart, that wills me to risk my sanity rather than hurt him. I crave his presence so completely... am seduced by the possibility of creating more beautiful moments with him... would do anything to spend one more hour in his company...  
  
But the more time I have with him, the more I learn, the more I fall...  
  
And I only want... _more_.  
  
Who had it been who'd said: "Everything is never quite enough"?  
  
The raw truth of that slices through me, tearing me apart with its searing heat even as it smoothly whispers its irresistible promises.  
  
Panting, I open my eyes, searching for some sort of anchor. Something -- _anything_ \-- to distract me. And I wind up gazing at a pair of twin droplets glimmering on the surface of my desk between my elbows.  
  
Twin droplets, I slowly -- numbly -- realize, that are my own tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: Okay, this is creepy: I'd picked out the name "Sasha" and written Part IV before I'd bothered to look up the definition online. And yes, according to Parenthood dot com, "helper and defender of mankind" actually is the meaning of the name. The strange subconscious at work... or something more??
> 
> :: "Everything is never quite enough" I initially read at the beginning of ClarySage's "Digital." Original quotation by Wasis Diop from his song "Everything (... Is Never Quite Enough)."


	8. Chapter 8

How do I fix this?  
  
I frown with the thought as I stalk down the street, hands shoved deep into my pockets. It had taken me a... while to get myself together after that call to Quatre. And when I'd finally come down from the rushing, shuddering wave I'd gotten caught on, one thing had been completely, irrefutably clear: it doesn't matter whose fault this mess is. It's doesn't fucking matter. I'm here and Heero's not. And, God damn it, _someone_ has to figure out how to fix it.  
  
Starting... right... _now._  
  
I lift my gaze from the sidewalk and check the street names on the intersection. I draw in a deep, fortifying breath; I'm almost there. Now I just need to figure out what I'm going to do when Duo opens his door. Assuming he will open his door...  
  
Hm. Maybe I haven't given this enough thought. Perhaps I'll need to offer an incentive for him to see me.  
  
I glance around me for a source of inspiration. Spying a profusion of color, I move toward it automatically until I find myself standing in front of a small vendor. I reach out, running the tip of my finger over one of the nearest items on display. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd even be considering buying something like this.  
  
Feeling my face warm despite the cool breeze sweeping the street, I hastily make my selection and hand over the correct change. The young woman takes the bills from me with a kind smile, perhaps sensing my acute discomfort.  
  
She nods toward my selection and comments on its significance. Her words only further heighten my embarrassment but I don't ask to exchange my purchase for something more... neutral. I follow my instincts on all things. And in this case, something tells me that this offer won't be inappropriate.  
  
I hope.  
  
+  
  
The sound of the bolt disengaging throws me completely off-balance. I find myself a spilt second away from facing Duo and my tongue has suddenly adhered itself to the top of my mysteriously dry mouth. Crap. I can't even lasso one of my frantic, half-formed thoughts, so even if I could speak I doubt I'd be very articulate about it.  
  
Plus, I'm not 100% sure he's even opening the door. I mean, why would he after I just walked away from him last night without even making an effort at an explanation?  
  
Maybe I'm hallucinating.  
  
The door opens and there stands Duo wearing a black tank top that snuggly embraces his muscled chest and his hair twisted back into its usual braid.  
  
Hallucination?  
  
Dear God, I hope not.  
  
He blinks at me, his brows furrowing slightly in a question he does not ask. Hell, he doesn't even say "Hello." It's as if we're both staring at ghosts that will vanish with the slightest disturbance.  
  
I search for words but my jaw seems to have become permanently fused together. Okay, backup plan.  
  
Duo jerks his head back reflexively as I thrust my fist out toward him, my offering suspending between us. He twitches slightly as the gift sways in my fist, gently bumping against his nose.  
  
"For you," I manage somehow. "I'm sorry," I continue. "About last night."  
  
Every muscle in my body is coiled so tight I think I could implode any second. But then Duo's expression softens and he lifts one hand in order to gently curl his fingers around my fist.  
  
"I..." he beings. "It's..."  
  
We stand there, staring at each other for a moment longer.  
  
With a small sigh, Duo takes a step back and gently tugs at my still-raised fist. "C'mon in," he invites softly.  
  
Unable to think of a witty reply, I follow his lead and step over the threshold.  
  
"This is a surprise," he continues and I wonder if he means the visit or the gift. And with that reminder I release the single, red tulip into his grasp.  
  
"One of my talents," I try to explain, not sure my words are making any sense whatsoever. "Being unpredictable."  
  
Duo grins and I finally feel a lessening in the tension that has me strung taut. "You're good at it."  
  
I grunt.  
  
He laughs and I find myself relaxing even more. He gestures toward the sofa in his efficiency apartment. "Have a seat."  
  
I do, watching him as he pulls a tall glass from the kitchenette cupboard and fills it with tap water. My gaze follows his every move until he starts to turn back around. Quickly, I avert my eyes and find myself staring at the photograph of the five friends. I'm peripherally aware of him setting the tulip in its glass on the coffee table as I stand.  
  
"You kept it," I say, feeling his gaze on me as I move toward the framed image.  
  
After a heartbeat of silence, he moves to stand beside me and says, "Yeah, I did."  
  
I frown. "But... Hilde Schbeiker placed the order..."  
  
Duo sighs. "Yeah," he agrees again, "she did." He glances at me, his expression somewhat calculating, somewhat judging... as if he is weighing his next words and imagining my possible reactions. "I've been helping her out with her family's salvage yard. She wanted to do something to thank me."   
  
There's a long pause during which I continue to stare at the image of Duo Maxwell leaning against Heero Yuy's shoulder. And I'm _sure_ that Heero is in fact leaning back against Duo as well.  
  
Then, Duo softly blurts, "We're just friends, she and I."  
  
I blink before looking over at him. I can't think of anything to say to that, so I simply stare at him, saying nothing. He doesn't remove his gaze from the photograph to meet mine. I watch his lips part, watch him draw a breath, watch the brief movement of his tongue as he wets his lower lip.  
  
"I'm sorry, too," he tells me. "I... In fact, I'm the one who owes _you_ an apology, not the other way around."  
  
His eyes flutter closed for a brief moment and he crosses his arms over his chest before his lashes open once again.  
  
"I'm..." He sighs heavily, looking irritated. "God, why can't I just _say_ it?" he mutters. The muscles in his jaw clench with frustration. "Back on Earth, when you finally woke up, when I was feeding you and smuggling in take-out, I thought I was finally making progress. I thought you might finally be willing to let me be your friend."  
  
"How can you say that?" I interrupt. "I never spoke a single word to you!"  
  
Duo's shoulder muscles relax slightly as he smiles. Sort of. The grin itself is a little lopsided and very shaky but he finally looks at me straight-on. And I can almost smell it; its presence is so real:  
  
He's vulnerable.  
  
"I didn't think of it that way," he replies softly. "I focused on all the things you didn't say."  
  
"I don't understand," I confess.  
  
And he's kind enough to clarify, "You never once told me to go away and leave you alone. You never ordered me to get lost, to shut up, to bother someone else."  
  
"He... Heero used to say those things to you?" I demand, feeling oddly betrayed and rather angry. It's beyond me how anyone could be so cold to Duo.  
  
He shakes his head. "No, he... No. I always backed off right before... I could kinda see it coming, you know?"  
  
I don't know. "What did you watch for?" I hear myself asking.  
  
"Well, first his words would shorten, until he was almost spitting them out of his mouth. Then he'd stop bothering to look me in the face. After that his shoulder muscles would tense up and his jaw muscles would clamp down and he'd ignore me completely..."  
  
"And then?" I persist.  
  
Duo shrugs. "I never pushed any further than that."  
  
I'm quiet after he speaks those words. Really, what could I say?  
  
But then Duo tilts his head to one side and continues in a voice made lighter with hope and uneven with trepidation. "But, in the hospital on Earth, you never pushed me away, never tensed up, never deliberately looked away from me and I thought... maybe... _finally_ I was getting through to you."  
  
"And then I ran," I remind both of us, disgusted with myself.  
  
Duo rocks back on his heels and shakes his head. "I was so damn _pissed_ at you for doing that," he tells me. "I thought I was finally getting to see a little bit of the real you -- the guy behind the mission..." He closes his eyes again, briefly, to gather his breath and possibly his words. "I've been a real asshole to you since I saw you at the spaceport," he states.  
  
I open my mouth to disagree, not wanting him to feel so badly about it. But he isn't yet finished and I'm forced to keep my silence or talk over him.  
  
"The best excuse -- the _only_ excuse I have to offer you is that I was... scared. For a few days I got to just hang out with you and take care of you and be there for you and then... and then it was like waking up. Like the whole thing had been a dream. You took off and everything was back to normal. And I didn't want that.  
  
"But then, when I saw you again and you denied being Heero Yuy I couldn't... I just couldn't accept that I'd lost my chance. And I couldn't understand why you were denying me this."  
  
Duo pauses and runs a hand over his braid, from the top of his head to the nape of his neck. Reluctantly, he admits, "For a while, I was mad at you for not being Heero. I was mad because I wanted to get back to that place where you trusted me. I was mad because I thought I'd blown my one shot at it. But then I kinda started to enjoy hanging out with you and I stopped being mad. And that was when I realized that I wasn't really missing Heero anymore because I was starting to like you... a lot."  
  
Total silence descends between us. I can't believe what I'm hearing.   
  
I don't back away as Duo slowly reaches for me. I feel his fingers curl around my shoulder and I remain right where I am, wishing I could lean into him just little but unsure of where this is going, unsure I'm really understanding what it is he's trying to tell me. But then he closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around my shoulders.   
  
I can feel the warmth of his breath against my ear when he whispers, "And that's when I realized I'd been kidding myself. I never wanted Heero back. I wanted _you_."  
  
My breath catches in my throat. In my chest, my heart feels as if it's stopped beating in order to listen more closely.  
  
Still whispering, Duo confides, "And every night when I go to sleep I wonder if -- when I wake up -- you'll be gone and Heero will be back. And every day I'm so... damn... _relieved_ that you're still here."  
  
"Duo?" I inquire softly, hesitantly wrapping my arms around his waist.  
  
"Don't go," he murmurs, his cheek pressed against mine, his lips brushing the edge of my ear with every syllable. "Stay, Sasha? Please?"  
  
Oh, God. How can I say "no" to that? To him? To the sound of my name tumbling off of his tongue? He's never said it before, never conceded that I could be who I say I am. And the sound of those two syllables... the power and the seduction they carry with them... I want to give in. I crave it. But I have to be sure he understands, _really_ understands...  
  
"Duo, I can't... Heero..."  
  
"You're not Heero," he tells me. "I know that. Just promise me one thing."  
  
"If I can, it's yours," I respond without hesitation.  
  
His arms tighten around me. "If there's... any way you can, I want you to promise me you won't let Heero come back. If it's within your power, promise me you won't leave by choice."  
  
I can feel my heart breaking in my chest at the sound of his fear. He's afraid of losing me to Heero... perhaps I'm just as afraid of losing _him_ to Heero as well. My embrace tightens around him until we can no longer inhale at the same time. As he inhales, the motion pushes the air from my lungs and vice versa but neither one of us suggests loosening our hold.  
  
"I promise, Duo. Whatever happens. If I have a choice, I'll stay."  
  
I can feel the breath shuddering out of him, can feel the relief in him, can feel the moment when he stops striving to tuck me into his chest and starts cradling me in his arms. I close my eyes as his fingers feather through my hair but open them again when I feel him lean away.  
  
We're nose to nose when he asks me if I'll consider staying the night.  
  
My hands slide down his back to his hips. I nuzzle the corner of his mouth and dare to rub my chest against him. His lips tremble apart when I tell him he'll have to loan me a clean pair of boxers in the morning.  
  
And then I touch the tip of my tongue to the corner of his mouth. He shifts in my grasp, his mouth blindly gravitating toward mine. It's my first kiss and it's fierce and hot and wet. I try to keep my eyes open, but I quickly loose myself in the intensity of it. I bury one of my hands in his hair and pull back long enough to whisper one of the last coherent thoughts I can recall having for a good, long while: "Lead me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: In reference to Duo being able to sense when he'd been about to push Heero too far, there are a few moments during the series when Heero is rather aloof in Duo's presence, but what Duo describes here is a little embellished on my part.


	9. Chapter 9

And he does... lead me.  
  
I follow his mouth as he retreats across the living room, leaning in for searching kisses that bring with them the warmth of a homecoming. I follow his scent, his touch, the brief, quiet sounds he makes in the back of his throat.  
  
I give in ­ submit ­ and consequently banish my inhibitions and fears. I trust him. And I want to be in this moment with him. I lean into his heat as he climbs, still moving backwards, onto his bed. His fingertips linger over my throat and I kick my shoes off before joining him on the mattress.  
  
I find myself in his lap, one of my knees gently pressing up against his crotch. Again, I'm gifted with the soft, fleeting sound of his voice as he whispers ­ almost groans ­ my name: _Sasha_.  
  
I shiver.  
  
His lips glide over my skin, visiting my nerves with his teeth and tongue. His fingers twist into the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms obediently when I feel the caress of the cooler air touch my exposed abdomen. His hands smooth up my torso and he lingers as if he could drink in the feel of my scarred skin.  
  
My sense of time dissolves as the heat builds between us. Duo's shirt is cast aside and our jeans unbuttoned. We kneel together, in the center of Duo's bed, mouths seeking each other, hands questing over necks, across shoulders, down arms and navels.  
  
And when his hand firmly closes around me, I almost cry out. I can feel the heat of him even through the thin cotton of my underwear and it's... exquisite. I almost don't have enough presence of mind to reciprocate, but I manage to fist my hand around him as he moves against my thigh... as I move against his thigh... as our mouths and bare skin meet in an accelerating rhythm.  
  
There are no words to describe our surrender. Even knowing that the intensity of our touches, the magic of our chemistry, can't last forever, it doesn't stop us from reaching for that blinding moment before us.  
  
And reach it, we do.  
  
A violent shudder rips through my body as I release. I can barely catch my breath, can barely keep his face in my sight, can barely record the sight of him as ecstasy stretches him taut. As soon as the unforgiving grip of my climax falls away, I slump against him, panting against his skin and leaning my forehead against his shoulder. A moment later, he falls into me as well and we wind up supporting each other's weight. There are no words between us. He purrs softly in drowsy satisfaction. I manage a quiet groan in reply.  
  
I don't recall lying down in his arms. I don't recall kicking off my jeans and wet boxers. But I must have. Because much later that evening, when I wake up, I am naked and so is Duo and I have absolutely no qualms about kissing him awake so that we can fix something for dinner.  
  
...  
  
I carefully fold the paper lids closed over the steaming rims of both Styrofoam cups of instant ramen. Having already tucked the utensils required for its consumption into the back pocket of my jeans, I carefully grasp the warming containers and head for the living space. I keep my attention on not spilling any of the scalding hot water on myself and only glace at Duo after I've set both cups on the coffee table. In the act of reaching for the utensils in my pocket, I hesitate in order to appreciate the sight of Duo regarding the lone, vibrant blossom leaning crookedly against the inner rim of its impromptu vase.  
  
"Duo?" I ask, wondering at that look on his face.  
  
He looks at me, the wistful grin lingering on his lips. In answer to my poorly articulated question, he says, "I just never figured you were the romantic type, I guess."  
  
Ah. Of course. "I'm not," I confirm and his smile widens.  
  
"What? You mean you didn't buy this for me? Someone held a gun to your head and ordered you to give it to me?"  
  
I snort. "I had a moment of madness," I try to explain while clawing my meager shreds of integrity closer, "next to a cart of flowers."  
  
Duo's expression shifts as doubt enters his thoughts. "You sure you didn't have an epiphany? You know, with the heavenly light carrying the divine chorus of angels singing 'Hallelujah' and all that?"  
  
I feel my mouth stretch into a lopsided grin. "More like a vision of you deciding to let me stew on your doorstep all afternoon."  
  
Duo chuckles. "Nah. Never would have happened," he assures me.  
  
"Great," I grouch, not knowing how else to react to that statement. "Next time I'll save my money and just try to look pitiful." I pause, jerking my gaze up to Duo's and adding with mock horror, "Oh, wait. Did I just ruin the surprise for you?"  
  
Duo laughs. "Dude, what makes you think you don't usually look pitiful?"  
  
"I see how it is," I toss back, enjoying myself immensely. "Duo Maxwell, patron saint of pathetic strays."  
  
"What an illustrious title," he muses, trying to hold back a snicker.  
  
I glare at him. "Just don't let me catch you taking in any other hard cases."  
  
"Or you'll what?" he challenges.  
  
"Or I'll take my flower back," I reply and have the pleasure of watching Duo clutch dramatically at his T-shirt which is ­ incidentally ­ inside-out.  
  
"You wouldn't!" he gasps in something that could have been horror if he hadn't been smiling.  
  
"Watch me." And before he can protest, I snatch the tulip from its sanctuary. I can feel the evil grin stretching my mouth as Duo's expression swiftly morphs from shock to playful calculation.  
  
"Hey, that's mine."  
  
"Not anymore."  
  
His hands move to the edge of the seat cushion on either side of his thighs. "You gave it to me fair and square."  
  
I shake my head. "Nope. It was on loan."  
  
"Loan?" He blinks at me.  
  
"Yeah. Loan. Need me to look that one up for you?"  
  
"You..." he starts, his smile widening into something very... predatory.  
  
I don't have any warning. One minute he's braced on the edge of the couch and the next he's leaped over the coffee table and is straddling my lap. He reaches for the tulip but I hold it back, beyond his reach.  
  
"You will surrender my incredibly sappy present, Abei," he growls playfully.  
  
I retort, "Give me one good reason to, Maxwell."  
  
"I'll give you five," he assures me, slyly. And before I can wonder about that decidedly out-of-place threat, his fingertips delve under my shirt and brush over my side. Reflexively, I twitch violently. I even make a sound. It's not anything so undignified as a... _squeak_ or anything. It's more of a... surprised grunt. Yeah.  
  
Having established his advantage, Duo laughs evilly. His fingers press more firmly against my skin and I bite back a yelp at the way his touch tickles my flesh. I reach for his hand and manage to pull him away by his wrist, but even I know it's a losing battle. After all, I've only got one free hand in my arsenal while Duo has two. And he's far too strong for me to try to shackle _both_ of his wrists with one hand.  
  
We wrestle in the beat-up recliner until I have tears of mirth squeezing past my lashes and I'm laughing hysterically. Of course, it doesn't help that Duo's grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.  
  
"Okay! Okay!" I pant. "I surrender!"  
  
Duo leans back, his touch changing against my bare skin to a genuine caress. "Pushover," he accuses.  
  
I don't bother to deny it. Lowering the tulip between us, I watch his face as I gently slide its petals down over the bridge of his nose and across his lips. "Yeah," I agree, watching him inhale its perfume deep into his lungs. He turns his face toward its softness and I watch ­ fascinated ­ as his eyes drift nearly shut when I glide the very edge of the blossom under his chin and along his jaw.  
  
He makes a small noise in the back of his throat. It's so quiet I almost mistake it for the sound of his breath. But then he turns slightly away from me, offering the expanse of his neck. Resisting the urge to reach for him, I lightly trail the simple, red flower down his throat. His lips part and his gaze focuses on my mouth, which can only open softly ­ silently ­ in reply. I brush the tulip very carefully over his collarbone, then smooth it back up until it lays against his pulse, subtly shuddering in time with his heartbeat. I pause, taking a moment to moisten my dry lips with my tongue.  
  
"You know," I tell him, my voice a thread of sound, "every flower has a meaning."  
  
The tulip ghosts up and over one of his eyes, down across his cheekbone and follows the curve of his face to the corner of his lips. "Yeah?" he urges me to continue in a soft, husky voice.  
  
"For example..." I nearly forget what I want to say as I study the play of the vibrant, crimson petals over his lower lip. I'm mesmerized by the brief appearance of his tongue as Duo follows the blossom's path, attempting to taste the fragrance left in its wake.  
  
"For example?" he whispers back.  
  
I repeat, breathless, "For example... the color red is the color of love and devotion."  
  
"Mm?" he comments, his eyes drifting closed in anticipation as I move the flower up over his brow.  
  
"And the tulip itself is the flower of the perfect lover." I drag the petals slowly over Duo's other eye and as soon as it reaches his cheek, I see him looking at me once again, his eyes dark and shuttered.  
  
His lips barely move as he murmurs, "So a red tulip means..."  
  
I smile, rather impressed with myself for remembering the flower seller's comments from much earlier. "A red tulip," I tell him, gently twirling it against his damp lips, "means... requests... the recipient to believe..."  
  
Duo moves his lips against the flower and I can feel the puff of his breath in the slight, sudden bending of the stem grasped gently by my fingers. "What?"  
  
I stare into his eyes and finish the message, "In me. Believe in me."  
  
For a moment, neither of us move. The tulip rests against his mouth, perfectly still. But then, slowly, Duo reaches for my wrist and urges the flower away until there's nothing between us but a few meager inches of very thin, very warm air. He leans closer and my pulse reacts swiftly to the small groan that precedes the sound of my whispered name: " _Sasha?_ "  
  
I can only inhale silently in reply.  
  
His mouth ghosts over mine and I can feel as well as hear his words as they pour past my parted lips. "I believe, Sasha. I really do."  
  
I close my eyes and open my mouth to him, offering whatever he wants, whatever I have the capacity to give. I'm swamped with a rush of pure, profound relief and the combination of it and Duo's heat is so heady I shiver.  
  
He kisses me slowly, caressing every part of my mouth with careful deliberation, re-learning the feel and taste of me. His hands brush over my jaw, cradling me close. He cherishes me. Takes nothing for granted. And I realize that I believe him, too.  
  
My arms settle around him and I'm dimly aware of his fingertips trailing down my throat and his hands disappearing beneath my arms. He follows the line of my back down until he can shove his hands into the bit of space created by the crease of the chair and my slightly slouched posture.  
  
I pull him more snuggly against me, holding him secure and balanced on my lap as his conquest of my mouth continues. And when he finally withdraws, both of us are breathing hard through reddened, fuller lips. I lean my head back against the cushion, completely blown away by Duo's very thorough kiss. I answer his quiet grin with one of my own and enjoy the feel of his warm hands pressing against my bare skin just above the waistband of my jeans.  
  
I almost close my eyes as his fingers begin a gentle massage. And if I had closed them, I would have missed the sudden change in his expression. I wouldn't have seen the startled surprise then the widening, delighted grin. I frown at him as he removes his hands from me and it's not until he holds a pair of disposable chopsticks, a fork, and a tablespoon up in front of my face that I realize the cause for his sudden change in demeanor.  
  
I grin back at him. I'd totally forgotten about the noodles. Idly, I wonder if they've been rendered to mush yet. I reach out and tug the fork and spoon from Duo's grasp, claiming them.  
  
"Where's your chopsticks?" he demands with a sparkle in his eyes.  
  
I arc a brow at him and, inserting my index finger between the two metal utensils in my fist, clink them together meaningfully.  
  
Duo laughs.  
  
Slowly, he slides off of my lap. "Don't tell me you can't use chopsticks," he teases.  
  
"I can't use chopsticks," I deadpan.  
  
Shaking his head and grinning, Duo opens his mouth to reply to that when suddenly he stops and frowns.  
  
"What is it?" I ask.  
  
He looks at me for a long moment before reaching down and gently guiding the hand still holding his tulip until the petals brush his lips again. "In the hospital, when I brought you Chinese take- out..." He blinks at me and I can see him putting it all together. "It wasn't your hand bothering you," he concludes softly. "You didn't know how to use them."  
  
I nod once, wondering where this is going. Is he having second thoughts? He seems so surprised... Had he _really_ begun to believe I'm not Heero? And if he does believe me, as he'd said, then why does he look so--  
  
My thoughts are cut off when he leans down and gifts me with an impish grin before snatching the fork and spoon from me. "Well, Abei," he declares, "it's about damn time you learned how to eat noodles like a real man."  
  
Both of my brows rise at that. "You're going to make a man out of me?" I quickly reply in the most neutral tone I can manage.  
  
"Oh, yeah," he promises, his voice husky again. "You can count on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: The meaning of a red tulip is (according to several on-line florist shops) exactly as Sasha describes.


	10. Chapter 10

Eating ramen is a _lot_ harder than it looks. Trying to keep the slippery noodles from flopping back into the broth while attempting to slurp them into your mouth is not as easy as Duo makes it seem, I decide with a wistful glance at the abandoned fork.  
  
"You're not thinking about giving up, are you?"  
  
I glare at him.  
  
He grins unrepentantly back at me. Yeah, he would find this amusing. I growl down at my dinner and stab my chopsticks into the mass of noodles, thinking I've burned more calories _trying_ to eat the damn stuff than the ramen can possibly replace.  
  
Duo laughs at me and I look up to glare at him again. But the glint of stainless steel catches my eye. I glance from the fork Duo holds out to me to his face.  
  
He grins lopsidedly at me and says, "I figure I've tortured you enough for one meal. Lesson's over."  
  
"Thank God," I grumble, dropping the chopsticks onto my paper towel and snatching the fork before he can change his mind.  
  
Duo snorts at my production and I consider saying something about his sick and _very_ twisted sense of humor, but the insistent beeping of the vidphone disrupts the moment. I begin eating in earnest, keeping an eye on Duo as he slides into the chair opposite the terminal and answers the summons.  
  
"Hey, Wufei!" he greets, stirring the remains of his soup with his chopsticks. "What's up, man?"  
  
"Something," I hear the other young man reply cryptically. "Have you seen Sasha? I can't get him to answer his phone."  
  
"Uh... yeah," Duo says hesitantly. He's stalling and I have the feeling that if he could do so without giving away my presence, he'd look over at me for a clue as to how he should answer.  
  
I'm not really sure what the big deal is, so I call out, "I'm here, Wufei." I stand up, noting the beat of odd silence that passes as I cross the room to lean over Duo's shoulder in order to properly address our mutual friend.  
  
"Sasha?" Wufei asks carefully. "What are doing at Duo's this late? It's almost midnight."  
  
Is it that late already? I glance at the vidphone's digital clock and realize Wufei's correct. With a mental shrug, I decide to just go with the flow. "Making mind-blowing, wild and wet, hot monkey love," I say flatly. I hold up my own cup of noodles, enjoying the wide-eyed looks I'm getting from both Duo and Wufei. "What's it look like I'm doing?" I wag the ramen cup back and forth for emphasis.  
  
Wufei clears his throat. I risk a glance at Duo and am gifted with the sight of him biting his lip to hold back his laughter.  
  
"Ah, right," Wufei forges onward, adopting a somber expression. "Listen, Sasha, I came across something today you might want to know."  
  
I frown and nudge Duo's thigh with my knee until he scoots the chair back far enough for me to have a seat on his lap. "You found out something about the stand-in theory?" I demand, not caring that Wufei is blinking at Duo and I.  
  
"Um, no," he replies hesitantly as the shock of seeing me perched on Duo's lap is gradually processed. "There's a probate lawyer looking for Heero Yuy."  
  
"How'd you find that out?" Duo asks, leaning forward.  
  
"The firm filed a formal request for his location with the Preventers when they couldn't find him themselves."  
  
"Huh," Duo says. "Any idea what they want?"  
  
Wufei shakes his head. "They won't say specifically. But I was told they have a message to deliver."  
  
I glance at Duo, who returns my gaze with a puzzled frown.  
  
"The name of the firm," Wufei continues, "is Langlie, March  & Associates. Their office is in L1."  
  
"L1..." Duo muses.  
  
"What?" I ask, not making the connection.  
  
I feel Duo's arm go around my waist. He looks up at me and explains, "Heero Yuy was trained on a colony in L1. That was where the rebel group he fought for had their base of operations."  
  
I open my mouth, close it, open it again and manage, "Oh." I'm not really sure what to think of this. I mean, it's likely this message is from someone in Heero's past and I'm wondering if I have the ability to _deal_ with Heero's past. I set my dinner down on the desk and reach for Duo's hand at my hip, interlacing our fingers. His grip tightens slightly in a reassuring squeeze.  
  
"So, Wufei..." Duo says, taking over the conversation, "You must have _some_ idea of what this is all about..." He grins but I can feel the increased tension in his body. "You wouldn't have called otherwise."  
  
"How very presumptuous of you, Maxwell," he replies.  
  
"Presumptuous," Duo concedes, "but correct."  
  
One side of Wufei's mouth lifts. "Indeed. I wasn't able to discover much, but I do know that the author of the message is Dr. J and I also know that he paid Langlie  & March a substantial fee to cover private investigators and extensive travel."  
  
Duo nods. "So the good doctor was anticipating Heero's disappearing act."  
  
Wufei nods. "But there is one more thing." He takes a breath and tells us, "The message was supposed to be delivered two months ago, on Christmas Eve."  
  
Christmas Eve. The last day Heero had lived. I vaguely recall someone holding me close, murmuring reassurances to me, as my body had shuddered with exhaustion. I can remember the chaos and the darkness. I shiver and Duo pulls me back against his chest, not caring that we have an audience.  
  
"Thanks, Wufei," I hear Duo say sincerely. "We'll keep you informed on our end."  
  
Wufei nods. He reaches for the disconnect but hesitates, his gaze moving to me. "You are not alone in this," he tells me and the warmth of Duo against my back supports his words. "We are, all of us, only a phone call away."  
  
I nod. "Thank you, Wufei," I manage in a dry whisper.  
  
The vidscreen light blinks out. Duo reaches to terminate the call before wrapping his other arm around my chest. We sit like that for a long moment until I find the voice to ask, "Who is Dr. J?"  
  
Duo turns toward me, nuzzling my hair and then smoothing his cheek down the side of my neck. "He was the guy in charge of building Heero's Gundam and training him how to fly it."  
  
"To fight," I elaborate.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"To kill."  
  
"Yes."  
  
I reach for him, wrapping my free hand around his bicep. I close my eyes and whisper, "What are the odds that any good will come of this?"  
  
He leans his forehead against my shoulder and softly replies, "I don't know, Sasha. I really don't know."  
  
"What would you do?" I ask after another brief pause.  
  
"I would read it," he says without hesitation, "when I was ready."  
  
"Duo?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can we go to sleep now?" I need to distance myself from this. I need to run for a little while. I need to hide in the darkness. Duo's arms tighten briefly around me.  
  
"Sure," he says and by the tone of his voice I know he understands perfectly.  
  
...  
  
I hadn't expected to get much sleep, not really. So imagine my surprise when I succumb, almost immediately, to the blackness behind my eyelids and the strong warmth of Duo's arms. The next time I open my eyes, I find myself staring at Duo's alarm clock which reads 6:44 a.m.  
  
I can still feel Duo snuggled up against my back. One of his arms is draped over my waist and I take a moment to study what I can see of him, committing the shade of his skin, the fine dusting of hair along his arms, the capable, callused hands and perfectly tapered fingers to memory. Slowly, I roll onto my back and let my gaze slide over his face. I smile. His mouth is slightly parted and a little crust of drool has formed where the corner of his lips press against the pillow. His hair is a mess and I think I can see a few silky hairs under his chin that are longer than the others. It's hardly enough to bother shaving but I know he will.  
  
Turning carefully, I softly press my lips to his forehead. There is nothing about this young man that I do not find beautiful.  
  
Reluctantly, I drag my gaze away from him to the bedroom door. It's closed but I can easily imagine the view beyond. Had it been standing open, I would have been able to see the corner of the kitchen table where I know Duo keeps the vidphone. I lie here, thinking about making that call, knowing I'll have to eventually. Even if I don't want to know what Dr. J has to tell Heero, the others may need to know.  
  
Carefully, I slide out of bed, caressing his cheek when he stirs. His eyelids flutter briefly, opening just far enough to confirm me as the cause of his disrupted sleep.  
  
"Saaaash?" he groans softly in inquiry.  
  
"Bathroom," I tell him.  
  
"Uhn," he agrees.  
  
Smiling, I head for the bathroom to clean up a bit. I wash my face and manage to brush my teeth with the aid of some mouth wash, a bit of floss, and some toothpaste squeezed out onto a clean washcloth. I wander back into Duo's room, stripping my shirt off as I go. I check the figure on the bed and almost laugh when I see Duo curled around my pillow, once again asleep.  
  
I reach into his closet and borrow a white, button down shirt. I don't bother to worry about changing out of my jeans. For what I have to do, I could be sitting around in my boxers and no one would know the difference. I slip out into the hall and silently close the door behind me. For a moment, I think how nice it would be if Duo could be here while I make the call, but this first step I really need to make by myself.  
  
I pull the shirt on and consider the vidphone. I don't really want to sit in one of Duo's straight back chairs while I do this. I glance over at the couch as I fasten the buttons at each of the cuffs. As I start move to the buttons on the front of the shirt, I assure myself that moving the vidphone is a good idea. It'll be further away from the door to Duo's room if I set it on the coffee table.  
  
Now feeling somewhat more presentable, I carry the contraption over to the spot I'd chosen. I power it up and dial the L1 colony status service, noting the weather and local time. Although it's just past seven in the morning here, it's nearly noon there. I dial information and request a direct link to Langlie & March.  
  
I try not to look too nervous.  
  
"Langlie, March & Associates," the receptionist says pleasantly.  
  
"Hello," I begin. "I believe one of your clients has something to be delivered to me."  
  
If she thinks my words are blunt or audacious, she doesn't let it show. "Your name, sir?"  
  
I swallow before forcing myself to tell her, "Heero Yuy."  
  
"One moment, please."  
  
I stare at the law firm's logo now gracing the screen. I try not to think too hard about the possible consequences of my actions. I nearly leap out of my skin when the screen blinks and a new face fills the expanse.  
  
"Mr. Yuy?" an older woman inquires politely.  
  
I nod. "Yes."  
  
She smiles. "We do, indeed, have something here for you. If you'd be so kind as to verify your identity, I can send it along immediately."  
  
"What do you need?" I desperately hope there isn't some account number or code word I have to give her.  
  
"Just a voice verification," she says and I relax.  
  
"All right."  
  
She taps a few commands out onto her vidphone and then tells me, "Please state your full name."  
  
I clear my throat and intone, "Heero Yuy."  
  
"Thank you," she says, "this will take just a moment."  
  
I watch her work. No doubt she's sending the commands to have their recognition software compare the sound of my voice to the one they have on record. A soft chime sounds and the woman nods.  
  
"All seems to be in order, Mr. Yuy. Shall I transmit the file to the vidphone you're currently using?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," I say.  
  
"You're very welcome. Is there anything else we can do for you today?"  
  
"No," I say, thinking this file is more than enough.  
  
She types out a few more commands before informing me, "Your data has been sent. Have a good day."  
  
I thank her once again and disconnect the call. However, as soon as I do so, a message box silently informs me that I have just received a file. I reach for the keypad until my fingertips are hovering over the key that will open the transmission.  
  
I don't have to open this right now. I could get something to eat, take a shower, lie back down with Duo...  
  
"Decided to start the fun without me, huh?"  
  
Startled, I just about fall off of the couch. "Jesus, Duo..." I grumble, trying to calm my racing heart.  
  
He smirks. "Sorry," he says, not sounding repentant at all. He stands next to me for a moment before asking, "Are you gonna open it?"  
  
"I..." I don't think I'm ready. But will I ever be?  
  
"You want some time alone?"  
  
The quiet acceptance in his voice soothes me. Slowly, I shake my head and hold out my hand to him. He takes it and steps up onto the couch. "Scoot forward," he directs and I do. He settles behind me, bracketing my thighs with his legs and wrapping his arms around my chest. He doesn't say anything else, just loans me his solidity.  
  
After a minute of pure procrastination, I reluctantly reach for the keypad again. And again I hesitate. God, anything could be in this file. The prospects are... unsettling to say the least.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I'm... What if...?"  
  
One arm unwraps from around my torso and I can feel his palm sliding down my arm until he interlaces his fingers with the ones still hovering over the keypad. His breath is warm against my neck as he whispers, "In this together, Sasha."  
  
And in his voice, I find the strength to hit the enter key.  
  
Duo pulls my hand back, curling my arm around my stomach and holding it there. We wait, neither one of us breathing, as the file loads and then a strange face appears on the screen. An older man with long white hair and small, dark goggles hiding his eyes. He looks ­ weirdly ­ familiar, but it's not really a memory. It's more like an impression, like I'd dreamed about him once, a very long time ago.  
  
"Hello, again, young man," the man who I assume to be Dr. J says in a gravelly voice. "It's been a long time, hasn't it Heero?" he asks. Then his mouth curves upward and he adds mysteriously, "Or should I call you Sasha?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: The background information Duo gives Sasha about Heero's connection to L1 is taken from my understanding of the series.


	11. Chapter 11

Behind me, Duo gasps. I can only blink at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. How does he know? My name... I'd chosen it. _I_ had. Hadn't I?  
  
The doctor chuckles. "You're wondering how I know that name, aren't you, boy?"  
  
I don't bother to reply. It's not as if he can hear me anyway.  
  
"I met a young boy named Sasha Abei a long time ago," he continues, "shortly after I'd asked a rather impressive young lad if he'd like to learn how to pilot a Gundam."  
  
I shake my head. None of this is making any sense. Behind me, Duo is perfectly still, clutching to me as if I'll disappear any moment. But then, since neither one of us knows what impact this message will have one me, it's possible that I will disappear isn't? It's possible that Duo could find himself wrapped around Heero Yuy any minute now...  
  
"I found him wandering the streets after a fierce battle," J tells us. "I'd watched him, watched the way he moved, and I saw the signs of a child who could become a brilliant soldier. So I brought him back to the lab to start the training."  
  
The doctor chuckles again. "But no, that's not the end of the story. Nothing is ever that simple, is it, Sasha? You see, even though I had a good feeling about this kid, I knew certain tests would have to be conducted. I would have to learn what made him tick, what his limits were, what his fears were before we could begin.  
  
"And so, during a counseling session, I asked that the boy be put under hypnosis and that was when I met you, Sasha. I learned that you'd been a small child when you'd seen Odin Lowe kill your parents. You'd witnessed the entire thing and he knew it. But rather than kill you, he kept you with him. And _you_ , Sasha, rather than getting angry, you went cold. You built a wall around yourself to protect your soul from the pain.  
  
"Odin encouraged this, training you to be efficient and wary, showing you how to kill and survive. And during that time, Sasha stayed hidden behind the mask."  
  
The doctor pauses, changing the subject for a moment, "You'll want to confirm these facts, of course. I've included what information I could find about your past and your family. But really, the details aren't so important to my role here.  
  
"When you told me what had happened to your parents, when Sasha came out to speak with me during the session, I knew that you could never be a true killer. I knew your heart was too kind, your soul too pure, your grief too strong. But I needed you to pilot the Gundam, you see. Your reaction time was incredible. Your aim more accurate than any other candidate I had interviewed. And your willingness to follow orders and you dedication to see those orders through made you perfect for our cause. So, I compromised.  
  
"I left Sasha alone and worked on training the other you. The mask. The person you'd created to protect you from the trauma of your past. But I knew that if you survived the war, the soldier in you wouldn't be able to cope. So I set about programming you. I designed a flaw directly into your mind that would cause a deterioration of all I'd taught you. On After Colony 196, midnight of Christmas morning, you were to cease your functions as a soldier. The mask would crumble and Sasha would be awakened again."  
  
A beat of silence echoes in the wake of this admission.  
  
"Do you understand what I am telling you?" he persists. "Heero Yuy was not real. He had never been real. He was a creation, a programmed drone whose purpose was to fight for our cause. That is not to say he couldn't function on his own; Heero Yuy was a very capable young man, but he was merely a visitor in your life. A stand- in designed to keep you safe and sane until your term of service had expired and you could be free to live your life again."  
  
The doctor draws a deep breath. "You are not responsible for Heero's actions during the war. I am. I made him and molded him into the person he'd become. It might have been your body, but it was not _you_ , Sasha.  
  
"There is so little innocence left in this world," J says quietly. "It would have broken my heart to destroy yours.  
  
"Heero Yuy is gone. Forever. You will likely never remember any of the childhood you spent hiding in your own mind. You will likely never remember the war or how to fight or even the basics of how to fly a mobile suit. That was part of Heero. And I promise you, you are free of him.  
  
"It will be difficult adjusting to this change, I know. And I am sorry. I hope you will stay in contact with your comrades from the war. I believe they can help you through this.  
  
"Take care, Sasha Abei, and Godspeed."  
  
And with that, the screen flickers until the doctor's likeness is replaced by a small subdirectory listing. If I'd chosen to inspect the files, I'm reasonably sure I would find the data from his research, the results of his experimental procedures, and information about my past. But I don't reach for the keypad again. I'm staying right where I am until I'm good and ready to move.  
  
I can feel Duo breathing behind me. I can hear the raspy catch in his breath denoting his shock. It disturbs me to listen to that sound from him. I stir in his embrace, just a little. Just enough. He tightens his arms around me in a silent request for me to stay put. I'm not sure if he realizes my intention had not been to leave, but to gain his attention.  
  
"Duo..." The sound of his name is almost guttural in my throat. The tension has stiffened my vocal chords and the surprise has deprived me of deep breaths with which to speak.  
  
He doesn't offer a verbal reply. I feel him nuzzle the hair over my left ear and I have the crazy impression that he's trying to blink back tears.  
  
"You were right," I tell him in a muted voice. One of his hands ghosts up my arm until his fingers curl around my shoulder.  
  
"There _was_ something underneath the soldier..."  
  
Behind me, he shudders in agreement. I turn slightly in the tight circle of his arms until I can finally see his eyes. Eyes that are shining with sympathy and wonder and relief. And we know. Both of us know.  
  
It's over.  
  
And I'm still here.  
  
And I'm free.  
  
My lips curve upward as I finish my thought, "There was... me."  
  
...  
  
"Are you ready for this?" I shout over the irregular roar of the wind.  
  
Beside me, Duo leans away from the open door and nods. "Count on it, baby."  
  
I glare at him but I think my goggles ruin the effect. I hate it when he calls me that. And he knows it. The asshole.  
  
He grins widely and I can just see it in his face, can read it in the cocky angle of his chin: //What are ya gonna do about it, Sash?//  
  
My stare promises retribution but he doesn't seem too concerned. In the past ten months I haven't been able to really follow through with any of my lectures or paybacks. I... _we_ keep getting, uh, distracted.  
  
Duo reaches for me, hooking his fingers around the back of my neck and pulling me close. "Why is it," he says loudly over the growling engines, "that you're getting _me_ a present for _your_ birthday."  
  
I shake my head. Where Duo had gotten the notion that Christmas Day ­ my first real day as being "Sasha" ­ is my birthday, I'll never know. I have a perfectly good birthday, which he _also_ insists on celebrating, but that's beside the point. I holler back, "It's not my birthday!"  
  
He rolls his eyes. He's very used to this argument.  
  
I smirk. He has no clue where I'm going with this. I continue, "What's the date today?"  
  
Duo sends me a look that's both tolerant and exasperated. Don't ask me how he manages it. "The day after Christmas. Duh!"  
  
I laugh. "And do you know what happened last year on this day?"  
  
He pauses and I watch his expression become thoughtful. After a moment, he shakes his head.  
  
I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and inform him, "I saw you for the first time!"  
  
I can still vividly recall that moment, too. My first glimpse of him, completely unguarded as he'd slept at my bedside. I think I fell for him right then and there... that is, if I hadn't fallen for him before that. I'm not entirely sure I hadn't been completely unaware of my surroundings when Heero had dominated my mind. I'm not entirely sure little bits of me hadn't eked out during the war to entice Duo into digging deeper into Heero's cool indifference. But no matter _how_ it had happened, the end result is the same: he's the one ­ the only ­ goofball I'd brave my fear of heights for.  
  
I yell, "Happy anniversary!"  
  
He can't seem to decide between staring at me and laughing breathlessly. I save him from making a decision by leaning forward and kissing him. For a moment, his grip tightens almost painfully around the back of my neck. But I understand what he means. His lips are soft and warm and when I pull away he's smiling. I don't need a more sincere "thank you" than that.  
  
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I glance up at the small plane's copilot and acknowledge his hand signals. It's almost time.  
  
I stand up and grasp one of the handles on either side of the open hatch. Duo gets a grip on the second. We both spare a few moments to check the harnesses and buckles of our parachute packs. Everything looks in order. I force myself to take a deep, calming breath. I can do this. I can. Really, what's so hard about jumping out of an airplane, anyway? People of dubious sanity do it all the time...  
  
The copilot waves to us and it's time to jump. I stop thinking about poorly packed chutes and tangles lines and our bodies splattering into a large pile of manure in some dairy cow pasture bellow... I stop thinking entirely. The instant Duo disappears through that door I can't not follow.  
  
For an instant, I'm afraid. But after that first, mindless second, the freedom of freefall takes over and I feel the rush of it storm through me. I dive until I'm even with Duo and, side by side, we descend.  
  
I don't know if I reach out to him or if he reaches out to me ­ perhaps it's a little of both ­ but I feel our fingers interlace and the touch grounds both of us even when no solid footing exists.  
  
It's a fitting metaphor for who we are when we're together.  
  
I laugh at that. Check me out. I'm getting all poetic while plummeting though the Earth's atmosphere. Without a doubt, I'll have to share that little joke with Duo later.  
  
All too soon, I finish my countdown and reach back to grasp the chute release. By luck or design, both of us end up deploying at the same time and after we settle into the wind and are steadily guiding ourselves down to a nice safe landing, I hear Duo's laughter.  
  
"Hey, Sash! That was _wicked_ , dude!"  
  
I grin. "Glad you enjoyed it," I call back.  
  
"But hey," he replies with a slow, evil grin, "how're you gonna top this next year?"  
  
I feel my eyebrows go up. "Me? It's _your_ turn next year! How are _you_ gonna top this?"  
  
He laughs again. Then, in a sly tone, promises, "Oh, I'll think of something."  
  
I laugh, too, knowing he will and looking forward to seeing if both of us survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: J's account of how he met young Heero is from "Episode Zero."
> 
> :: During the series, J told Relena (shortly after her father's death) that even though Heero is a trained killer, he's really a kind-hearted boy. (Or something close to that effect.) That assertion has always intrigued me and I had fun playing with it in this story.
> 
> :: As for scientific evidence and/or theories that will support J's claim that he "made" Heero Yuy and "programmed in" a limited life span of that personality... Um, yeah. Right. I claim artistic license.


	12. Chapter 12

The crew watches as the young man works continuously, silently, and methodically. They'd offered to help but their gestures had been refused. They'd extended an invitation to include their passenger in their evening card games but that, too, had been declined.  
  
"Hey, Howard! What's with your boy?" one of the mechanics asks.  
  
Howard braces his hands on the metal railing and gazes down at the youth through his tinted sunglasses. "He's just quiet," he tells his perplexed employees. "He's always been like that."  
  
"Oh yeah?" another man asks, looking concerned. "If you ask me, that kind of single-minded stubbornness just ain't natural."  
  
Howard chuckles. "Maybe not," he agrees, "but it's normal for him."  
  
A few random grumbles follow that statement before the small crowd disperses. Howard remains on the upper deck for a moment before winding his way down the Sweepers' ship. He's been keeping an eye on the kid's progress and knows it's almost time.  
  
Approaching the young man, Howard calls out, "Hey, kid! How's it going?"  
  
He expects no answer and isn't disappointed when he doesn't get one.  
  
"You gonna need some help getting that thing ashore?"  
  
The youth shakes his head, his hands continuing without interruption.  
  
Howard considers the boy's even more silent companion. "You sure you don't want to sell that to me? I could give you a real good rate on the scrap."  
  
Again, he shakes his head.  
  
Howard shrugs. "Ah, well. Can't hurt to ask, right?"  
  
There is no discernable reply to that.  
  
"So, if you're not gonna sell it and you can't fight with it anymore, what are you planning to do with your Gundam?"  
  
The young man finally pauses in his preparations. Howard finds himself staring into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The silence suddenly surrounding him is so intense that he doesn't even notice the sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the ship. Those eyes draw him in and Howard has the crazy thought that, if he only knew the kid's language, he'd understand the meaning in that stare.  
  
Slowly, the young man looks away, out across the sea. Very deliberately, he softly says, "For a year, I've been watching. I've been waiting to see if it's true. I've been listening to the world and I think it's finally here. I think this peace is real."  
  
Howard blinks. He's so surprised to have actually gotten a verbal response that he doesn't immediately think of a reply himself.  
  
After a beat of silence, the youth continues, "I've been keeping an eye on her as well. And I'll continue to do so, but the world is different now."  
  
The young man turns back to the twisted, broken machine of war and gently lays a hand against the scorched metal.  
  
"I must reevaluate my purpose," he says. "I must discover what I am without... this."  
  
Howard can only watch as the boy caresses the metal briefly before his hand falls away. Turning his attention once again to the vast expanse of the ocean, he concludes, "I owe it to her. To myself. To everyone."  
  
//Well, what's a guy supposed to say to that?// Howard muses, scratching a spot above his ear. Hell, he'd had no idea the kid had even been capable of coherent speech let alone philosophy.  
  
"Stop the ship."  
  
It takes Howard a moment to realize his passenger has spoken. And then it takes another moment to realize what he'd said.  
  
"You want me to stop the ship," Howard repeats, wondering after the young man's sanity.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Howard looks around him, befuddled. "But we're in the middle of the Pacific! There's nothing out here!"  
  
The youth nods. "Exactly."  
  
Suddenly, Howard gets it. "Ah. I think I see." Is it irony that this Gundam is about to return to the depths in which it sank upon its initial entry though the Earth's atmosphere? Or is it justice? Does it matter if this is where a machine such as this truly belongs?  
  
Howard nods once. "All right." Removing his two-way radio from where he keeps it clipped to his belt, Howard radios the control room and commands a halt to the vessel's progress. As the engines slow, then begin to whine again as they reverse, Howard lays a hand on the kid's shoulder. "You want me to open the hatch?"  
  
"No" is the reply. "I'll do it."  
  
"Okay, then." And Howard resigns himself to watching as the remains of the Gundam Wing Zero are dropped into the depths of the ocean. Afterwards, he expects to see the young pilot lingering near the railing, watching that spot in the ocean where the mecha had fallen, but to his surprise, Heero Yuy doesn't look down. He looks up. Into the sky.  
  
Howard studies the almost-wistful expression on the lad's face and shakes his head, unable to begin to imagine the thoughts going through that boy's mind. So he moves off ­ going on about his business ­ and never knowing that the young soldier is thinking of two people. Two people who are at this very moment falling through the sky with hands clasped. Two people who are Duo Maxwell and Sasha Abei.  
  
Aboard the Sweepers' ship, Dr. J's lingering protégé stares up at the sky... and smiles.  
  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :: In "Endless Waltz" it's assumed that Heero's Gundam is destroyed during his attack on Dekim Barton's underground fortress. However, I wanted a more definitive ending. Plus... I needed an excuse to bring Heero Yuy back into the story.
> 
> :: Howard's thoughts on returning Wing Zero to the exact place where it had rested upon arriving on Earth the first time refers to Episode 1; Wing crashed into the ocean near the J.A.P. point after encountering resistance from Zechs.
> 
> :: So, where does the stand-in theory come from? Well, actually, I'm not really sure. Stellarbeams (co-webmistress of "Left Wing") saw a program about it on "Sightings" or "Unsolved Mysteries" or some TV show like that and told me about it. Neither one of us have been able to find much information on it which leads me to think this isn't a widely accepted theory in science or even along its fringes. Still, it's damn interesting.
> 
> :: Feel free to take this final chapter as metaphoric. Or interpret it literally. Tell yourself that's Heero's "ghost," if you like. Either way... it makes you wonder about the fate of that which we create. (As a side note, the book "Sophie's World" by Jostein Gaarder illustrates this concept brilliantly.)
> 
> :: Also, Heero's admission to watching over "her" is you guessed it a reference to Relena. Although I (as a fan of the series) don't really feel the connection between them could lead to a substantial relationship, I can't deny that there is a connection. And in "The Stand-In," I've decided to express it in the brilliantly (if I do say so myself) mysterious (so glad I thought of it) concluding scene. Thanks for reading! Until next time...


End file.
